


Far Off, So Close

by wickedrum



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Anal Plug, Bloating, Emetophilia, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Water Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: Pairing/Dedication: I've mentioned that I may run out of different scenarios of bringing Thanduil and Tauriel together through whump and Aquamoon suggested the following: placing Tauriel far away and Thranduil making a sudden appearance for his own reasons to claim her back. This is my attempt at the above.





	1. Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> Set: several years into Tauriel's banishment  
> Genre: G, sickfic.  
> Disclaimers: I don't own anything, barely my knickers.

Chapter 1: Shelter

“Nestril! Nestril!”

Tauriel lifted her head at the young villager's voice calling her, leaving the concoction of cordial she was making for the benefit of the malnourished children in the community, a small settlement by the sea in the primitive and poor land of Anfalas where she has set up shop, or more like tent to attend to the medical needs of the nearby population mainly comprising of fishermen, farmer and shepherd families, often looted by the corsairs, as well as exploited for timber and minerals by kings from all sides. 

Gerda's voice was insistent, but then again, it always was when someone arrived needing medical attention. The child of menfolk, or more like the stripling young woman was part of the reason Tauriel hadn't left these pastures for a few years now. Gerda had shown not just interest, but considerable skill in the arts of healing, and the elleth did not want to part with her if she could help it till she was certain the girl could take over and handle all medical emergencies successfully on her own. Tauriel washed her hands quickly, gathered her self-made emergency kit and stepped out in front, hoping whoever's life was at stake could be helped. 

“He's taken down the whole crew of an entire corsair ship that's just arrived to the cove!” Gerda cheered excitedly, holding onto the reigns of a mumakil, “he just appeared, on this animal, riding on it!” The large creature seemed to excite the daughter of a shepherd. Of course it was usual for a mumakil to be seen at this side of the desert very often, never mind one that was broken in, enough for a person to sit on. For Tauriel, this specimen seemed on the smallish side, but she still smiled at the to-be-healer's enthusiasm. 

“An elf! Can you believe it, Nestril,” the child always called Tauriel 'Healer' out of respect, “another elf around here and saving the houses in the harbour from corsairs!”

“An elf?” She had to side-step to see up into the saddle.

“Mae govannen, Tauriel,” said the newcomer. Greenish blue eyes, long blond hair with only a thin line plaited at the back, a simple green and brown leather traveller's tunic, cloak wrapped around under his plausibly injured arm, his front covered in blood from chin to thigh. Tauriel shook her head and looked back to her assistant, trying to convince herself she wasn't dreaming seeing Thranduil up there with absolutely no indication of status or belonging, barely able to hold himself upright, thousands of miles away from his kingdom, at the edge of a desert with not even one tree in sight! 

“Do you know the elf?” Gerda paused, becoming somewhat apprehensive at her reaction where she stood motionless with her mouth hanging open, “he did say he was from Eryn Galen.”

Tauriel got herself together to answer, but was stopped by the grunt the ellon made as a last effort to keep himself alert before his head lolled and he pitched off the fifteen feet tall saddle, landing forehead first in Alfalas' white dust before either of them could provide a softer landing. With the redhead still in shock, it was Gerda who crouched down first, looking for vital signs just like Tauriel had thought her. “His heart is beating a lot faster than yours at rest, and not even half as strong,” the healer in training summarised her findings, “barely breathing.”

That finally got Tauriel to move. “What injuries do you know of?” She joined the other healer to verify her assessments.

“A sword had gone through him, through the abdomen,” Gerda prided herself using anatomical terms, “you told me an elf would most likely survive such a wound,” she was somewhat perplexed by how desperate Tauriel looked. 

“With good care and some athelas,” the elleth bit the inside of her lips, not sure if she could provide sufficiently enough of either. “We will have to use the last of our supplies. Could you go prepare it?” She entrusted the young one with the task while she took to investigate the wound. The blade must have been a wide one, she determined despondently, though the location of it meant that no vital organs or arteries were damaged. Even so, the blood loss seemed heavy and intestines as well the stomach itself could be severed. Death would be almost a certainty with a wound like this for any other creature than an elf due to the infection that would surely set in and a non-functional digestive system. With her limited resources and knowledge, Thranduil himself was sure to look forward to a lengthy and agonizing recovery process at best. Tauriel was working fast now, routine taking over. She cut his upper clothing off, cleaned a wound and cauterised as much of it as she could, taking a moment to soothe him by placing a placating hand to his forehead when he reacted with the shakes, breaths coming in pained gasps. First line of emergency treatment done, she fetched a stretcher made to be able to be used by a single person by rolling the bottom half on the ground, turned him onto it and deposited him on a camp bed inside the tent with Gerda's help. 

“This is the last of what we had.” The girl had the athelas brew ready that they soaked into the compresses they've placed on his belly and wrapped the bandages over it. 

Thranduil reacted not throughout, bar for throwing up blood during him getting moved, so he was placed on his side not to choke and Tauriel started her healing chants, hand atop the wound and eyes squeezed shut in concentration and prayer for her to be good enough for the task. She called forth every intonation she knew, appealed to every force that could bring forth healing, the golden sun and the great earth and the western winds, Eru and the Ainur, and the Valar and the Maiar till her head was light and her arm grew weary. “Do you want me to take over?” She found Gerda's arms around her and when she opened her eyes she found that if not for those hands, she would have completely pitched forward onto the top of the king. 

“No, no,” she let go of Thranduil for a moment so she could gather some strength, take a few breaths and clear her head. “Go see what ships are in the harbour and if any of the fishermen are willing to go sail North, to any other settlement from where a message could be sent to Mirkwood.”

“I will be back as soon as I can,” the girl promised, knowing Tauriel would not rest till she had one ounce of strength left to give. 

The elleth waited a moment till the stars in front of her eyes retreated, then took to redressing the soaked through bandages as a way of getting some respite before the next chant, releasing a big sigh at the sight of the wound as it finally seemed to have stopped bleeding. In fact it had started closing, with no sign of infection so far. Thranduil was way too still and pale, but Tauriel didn't find the vital signs overly alarming and so restarted the chants with renewed, more hopeful efforts, not minding her own swimming head or shaking fingers..

“Tauriel...” She awoke to someone calling her name and had the impression that it had been utterred a few times before she reacted. She blinked her eyes open to stare into the king's blue ones, mere inches away. With a surprised gasp, she pulled away and sat up, realising she must have really swooned with the effort of channelling her will this time. “My Lord!”

“I have found you.” He stared with a hint of a smile.

“How are you feeling?” Tauriel uttered, confused by his statement. 

“Hurts somewhat..” Thranduil breathed, vulnerability laid bare in the wince. 

Tauriel shook her head, “I am very sorry, but I don't think ingesting anything, even medicine would be a good idea right now. You have a considerable hole in your stomach. I will however, continue my efforts to close it, with your permission.”

“Give it a rest, Tauriel,” he grumbled, “you wouldn't last a minute more. I can endure.”

“I refuse to see you in pain,” the younger elf argued. 

“I am telling you to,” Thranduil refused her healing hand by taking it into his own shaking, weak ones.

The touch confused Tauriel even more, but she understood she'd best obey now. “My King. The girl should be back soon and I need to know what message are we to send to Mirkwood.”

“Mirkwood.” He's spoken the word as if it held no meaning, voice just above a whisper.

“And you must have some guards with you, did you get separated? In which direction should we send out men to find them?”

“I came alone. I will not jeopardise another elven life in these lands.”

“You came alone?” It seemed to be Tauriel's turn to repeat words without understanding them.

“There were stories of a sole elven healer way South, I was hoping it would be you,” he squeezed her hand he never let go of. 

“Legolas...something happened to the Prince?” Tauriel could not grasp sense in Thranduil's behaviour and that was her only hunch, even though his arrival still made no sense. With her free hand, she checked for fever, assuming the patient must be delirious.

“King. King Legolas rules,” Thranduil said with his eyes brightening, pridefulness in the statement.

“I don't understand...” The elleth shook her head, wondering for a moment if it was her having hallucinated the whole thing starting with his very appearance up.

“Nestril, good news,” Gerda burst in, “I haven't spoken to him yet, but there's talk of Grimgar sailing to Lond Daer with the morning tide! That is in the right direction to get a message to Eryn Galen is it not?”

“No message,” Thranduil breathed, manifestly tired out. His voice was weak, but his once captain recognised the power in the tone of a lethally serious command. “Tauriel, no message is needed,” he grabbed onto her tunic to make sure she understood before he let himself fall back with his eyes closed. 

Tbc

Sindarin Glossary:  
healer – nestril  
Mae govannen – greetings, 'well met'


	2. Undergarment

Chapter 2: Undergarment

Thranduil tried to ignore the throbbing and cramping of his midsection, purposely keep it at an arm's length and out his conscious awareness. His current state of blood loss induced haze and the gratifying feel of Tauriel's hand on his felt too pleasing to let go of, but eventually it was nausea that won and he rose with a groan, his other hand going to his belly to shield it from strain as he tried to turn to his side to instinctively pull his legs up in defence of the assault that emptying his stomach contents inflicted on the wound. His eyes opened in surprise at his own sorry state, then widened even more when he realised that he was spouting nothing but blood. 

“It's alright, it's alright,” Tauriel's hand soothed his back now, “it's all dark blood. You need to get rid of it as it was filling up your stomach, but it's not from a continuing bleeding. I've healed that up.” She assured. 

While the revelation was welcome, it didn't do much to the throbbing of his entire front the ordeal caused. It was a while before he regained his breath and could do more than whimper piteously, shame only of secondary concern at the back of his mind. “You will feel better as soon as we manage to get that potion down your throat,” Tauriel looked pointedly in the direction of the preprepared medicinal agent. “Do you think you're up for it?” The elleth asked compassionately when it looked like he had stopped spitting. 

Thranduil could only nod and reached out with a hand towards the item, desperate to be done with his current pathetic state. “Easy,” Tauriel would only comply slowly, taking her time to arrange some pillows till his head was raised enough for the feat. 

The king however, gulped the entire contents of the cup in one go, then grit his teeth, closed his eyes and stiffened into a curl, mind rigidly intent of keeping the medicine in and do its work. After a while, his breaths became longer and his body more relaxed and it was at this point that Tauriel ventured to make sure, understanding the importance of not disturbing him before, “how are you feeling, My Lord?”

“It.Will.Do.” Thranduil opened his eyes tentatively, then shut them again when the act made him dizzy. 

Tauriel sighed in exasperation. She would have preferred some useful information out of him so she could treat him appropriately. “Do you need more pain medicine?”

“Uhm.” The healer had to take his irritated grunt as affirmative and rose to pour him another dose. 

“In. A moment,” he motioned her to sit back.

“Any other symptoms apart from nausea and pain?”

“'M hot,” Thranduil wondered how an elf like himself could sweat regardless of the warm climate. 

Tauriel reached out in concern to check his forehead. It was clammy and he leaned into the comfort, breathing out a moan, but due to him not having a fever she decided it was alright not to worry too much even though he acted vulnerable. “You will be fine. The medicine should calm you too,” she offered the cup once more and this time, Thranduil let himself be helped to a dose, though he needed all of his wilful might to keep it down. Soon however, he recognised the promised effects starting to appear and his mind cleared enough to be weary of the elleth's questions that would be sure to follow. 

“Better?” Tauriel peered under the bandages to make sure her previous assessments of his condition were correct.

“Thank you for your proficient care,” Thranduil acknowledged. 

“And what did you intend to do if I wasn't close by?” She felt her old personal guard and protector reflexes coming back.

“I would have most likely healed with time,” he dismissed her worries, “I've had worse.”

“Can I just make sure, no message to Mirkwood? At least to Legolas? He must be worried about your disappearance.”

“My son will not fuss. It is not regal. I made sure he has come to terms with his position and my decision to sail to Valinor before leaving.”

“Sail.” Tauriel felt her innards shake and then congeal into an ice block. “You're here to sail?”

Thranduil gave a dismissive headshake as if not contented with answering. “Nobody was surprised. In fact, most of the high born expected me to sail with my wife's passing and believed I had no right to hang on. It was well overdue,” he reasoned, somewhat miffed. 

“Why would you care what they think.” The redhead was scandalised. It wasn't how she knew her King, and besides, she was deeply hurt by the idea of him sailing.

“I don't.”

“But Legolas. Surely he didn't approve!”

“He understands the way of the Sindar.”

Tauriel pulled back as if burnt, reminded of the social status gap between them. “So I'm helping you get better so you can sail,” she summarised despondently.

A tiny headshake signified his, “I've already sailed.”

The ex captain turned healer repressed the urge to check his temperature again, “My Lord, you are alive,” she talked to him patiently as if explaining things to a child.

“That's because the Valar didn't let me in,” Thranduil countered in the same explanatory fashion. “Cause my other half isn't there, they said. She is here,” he reached for her hand. “Thus I came to find her, you.”

tbc


	3. Slant

Chapter 3: Slant

“I am sorry, there's not much else than fish around these parts,” Tauriel handed a spike with redfish on it to the ellon she still thought of as her king. Thranduil regarded the deep water catch fried by the younger elf at the open fire rather suspiciously. It wasn't unheard of as sustenance for elves, but he personally hadn't partaken in the dish for millennia and he didn't trust his still unsettled stomach either. 

“You need nourishment to regain your strength,” the redhead provided further encouragement.

“To do what pray tell,” Thranduil rolled his eyes, sounding distant, “the great battle inside of me on whether to trust the Valar or not?” He had been rather irritable over the last few days. Now that he wasn't spending most of his time sleeping, his purpose seemed doltish. His whole existence was in fact. When the Valar told him he had a soulmate amongst the living, his mind immediately went to Tauriel. There was no other person that it could be, he cared for no other creature that deeply apart from family. He had been apathetic and distant, there wasn't much that could jolt him out from that state and performed his kingly duties more mechanically than anything else, but Tauriel, she could always gain his attention in some way, either by achievements, childish mischief or questioning her ruler. He had no doubt in his mind that he treasured her and when he had reflected on the banishment he dealt out in anger, he had to admit that part of his problem with her actions was jealousy, he had been irked by the concept of Tauriel caring for another, be it a dwarf or Legolas. He had been wanting her for a long time, and had refused the possibility of giving into it based on her heritage. But now that he knew that in the eyes of the Valar, he had been wrong, he would have done anything to make it right, in fact he had done everything he could think of and yet Tauriel didn't seem to appreciate it befittingly. 

“For..whatever plans you may have,” Tauriel provided at a loss. Bringing him close to a state of health had been the easy part, while making sense of his claims was disorienting. The concept of him abdicating she had just about believed and digested, his journey to Valinor too, but now she was supposed to believe that he was what, in love with her? It did not compute. Not to mention that she did not recognise this elf, his impuissance, his lack of direction and self assuredness. His vulnerability was tangible and only half physical. Had he really been this vulnerable all along under that mask of royal air and prideful superiority?

“From the moment I was born, I've always had a clear purpose. Now, the Valar made sure that any role was to become obsolete.” What with you showing no interest in reciprocating my feelings. 

“Perhaps not,” she ventured, hating to see him so lost. “At the beginning of my banishment, it felt like a curse not to be able to take comfort in the familiar, but soon I realised it only meant I was free of social constraints, free to do anything I wanted. And what I wanted was helping people, so I did.”

“All I wanted was to sail.” Or capture your luscious lips, squeeze you against my body and make you mine on the forest floor. “I can't.”

“Forgive me My Lord, but I cannot envision you anything else but My King..”

“Well indeed, you see the trouble,” Thranduil interrupted. 

Tauriel just shook her head, “that isn't quite what I mean, My Liege. I mean that your wish is my command, always and forever. So if you wish me as your companion, your devotee, the equivalent of a partner, a significant other..”

“It doesn't work like that, Tauriel,” the ex king stared into the camp fire, “enchanted by you or not, I will not bed you against your will.”

“It's not true I've never felt anything for you,” the redhead blurted out at his despondency, averting her eyes in embarrassment. “I've talked to some of the other warrior ellith about it, thinking it was normal to marvel at your abs along with your skill, your handsome features along with your poise, or feel passion with respect and I was told in no uncertain terms to reign in my disorderly impulses and forget about them. So I have spent five hundred years making sure it didn't happen again, that those inklings didn't reach my conscious awareness. I do not know how I would have felt if I allowed myself to feel.”

Thranduil contemplated that for a moment, “I suppose that makes sense.”

“If you allow me, My Lord, I would like to make you happy. The Maiar know how much I need to atone for.”

“Still not the right reasons, Tauriel.” He established dejectedly, voice cracked and merely above a whisper.

“It's the best I have,” the redhead winced apologetically. 

Thranduil gave a non-committal gesture, “I may as well stay considering I have nowhere else urgently to be.”

“Are you going to give that fish a try?” She hoped for a change of subject.

The blond's gaze went to the stick in his hand he had forgotten about, food going cold by minute. He raised it reluctantly to his lips now, even more disinclined when he found the texture to be firm, but then a sweet, smooth and mild flavour hit his tongue. He took a second bite to investigate and found that it was quite moist despite it having been grilled and that he was enjoying it. The next mouthful was for pleasure in appreciation. “It's not bad eaten unseasoned, but the trick in these parts is in the spicing, given that there are only a few staples available at best,” Tauriel commented, “we don't have luxuries such as wine either, but we do have cacti that ferment well,” she handed him a dome shaped bottle she produced from behind her perch, a rare jutting out rock she was using to shield their camp fire from the swirling sand in the wind. 

Given what little supplies he had taken on the journey have long been depleted and the difficulties he had met with of late, alcohol was high on Thranduil's list. He had shown no hesitation to ingest this offering, and the burn going down his throat startled him. While he was no stranger to strong liqueur, the potency surprised him, as well as the taste. It was like sipping sweet, gentle smoke, with its heat included and once more he had to wonder how another sensation alluded him in an entire, predominantly lonely elven lifetime of a few millennia. Not venturing out of Mirkwood of late has been a mistake he now considered as such. “Does this cordial have healing properties? Fresh hope and strength of heart in it?” He wondered at the sudden shift in his feelings.

Tauriel seemed to almost laugh at him, restraining herself at the last minute, “it is an orc drink, originally. The people of Anfalas use it out of necessity as well, because only a mouthful is enough to overcome heavy drowsiness and temporarily restore vigour. But it is merely alcohol, not medicine. It might be effecting you the same way as them at the moment because you are unwell, so you might need more than a glug next time to improve your mood.”

“Full of surprises around here,” he admitted.

“Wait till you see the winter festival,” Tauriel seemed to reinvigorate herself while envisioning, “you will see how a little snakewine can go a long way.”

tbc


	4. Sentence

Chapter 4: Sentence

“Gerda will be alright,” Thranduil leaned into the stroke of his paddles as he pushed their small boat up the Lefnui river, “besides, three healers were a bit too much for a small fishing settlement, even if we got people coming for treatment from as far as Tolfalas and Enedwaith.”

Tauriel gave him an amused look, accordant with the informal and comfortable relationship they've formed over the last year. Thranduil hasn't been one of the most natural healers, the redhead had to instruct him just as much as Gerda at first, despite his royal Sindar blood that should have made his abilities readily accessible. But once the technical knowledge was there, his healing powers manifested exponentially, something that Tauriel could only dream of. “I know, I know, we had to leave, word of mouth was already spreading our laurels too much.”

He paused his paddles for a moment, wanting to get a good, heartening look at her, “you know the girl was ready. Besides, even grass looks like a novelty after that endless sand,” he looked upwards on the great, wide river, the start of a different sort of climate that was closer to their own. Iluvatar knows, they've both missed trees.

“Thranduil, look. Is that a tollgate already?” Tauriel indicated a long line stretching across the water from one shore to another. It was not much more than an elongated fishing net, but it would have been hard to get across without it being loosened. A man at one side was signalling to them to direct their boat that way.

“I've seen many posts like this coming down,” Thranduil pacified, “even the corsairs honour them with a few coins, less hassle to get through.”

“What should I call you, should the occasion arrise?” The redhead wanted to check before strangers' ears could hear them. It had been easier in Anfalas as they trusted Gerda and all the rest of the villagers just called them 'nestril' and 'nestron'.

“I don't know, Aerandir maybe?” He suggested the first thing that came to mind.

Tauriel smiled again, “Sea Wanderer? You don't look like a sea wanderer,” she gave him a good looking over. With his hair braided in skeleton style by her to the last lock, skin darkened somewhat by the ever blazing sun, muscles of his arms displayed at work by his loosely fastened, light toga, it was hard to make the connection with an elvenking, but Tauriel wanted to be extra sure, “and that's a Sindarin name.”

“Could I have anything other than a Sindarin name with such light hair,” Thranduil commented. 

“Papers and goods inspection!” The man shouted at them.

“We don't have papers because we don't have cargo to speak of,” Thranduil explained as they pulled up to the wooden platform the Middle Man was stationed at. “You can see for yourself, the boat is small and we have only personal belongings,” he raised the edge of the cover their spare clothing was stashed under. 

“But weapons you do have I see,” the Gondorian eyed the quivers on their backs, and the bows and the sheaths with daggers lying at the bottom of the boat beside them. 

“We need to be able to defend ourselves in these parts, what with the frequent threats from the windy Bay of Bel,” the blond reached for his pouch of coins, “how much do we owe you?” He hoped talk of money will deter the hillsdweller from further questioning in regard to their intentions, identity or destination. 

“We'll negotiate,” the watchman said hesitantly, then grabbed hold of the rope attached to the rowboat and wound it round the pillar mounted on the wooden platform for this cause.

“It isn't only him who is to be paid,” a man in a cloak popped up from behind a mound, and then another. 

“Harthon in enyd gen medir,” he expressed his frustration in a language the man was not likely to understand, “we do not have an unlimited amount just because we are elves,” Thranduil rolled his eyes, “we will need to keep some for further upriver.” He had his rings stashed away in another pouch, which would have provided more than enough for the purpose, but the man didn't need to know that. 

“Perhaps we can offer other services,” Tauriel hoped for a peaceful resolution, not fancying any of those men's chances if Thranduil got even one sword out, “if anyone in your families is sick, I am a healer.”

“So we've heard,” a creature emerging wet from under the platform announced ominously. He looked like a Dunlending and this time Tauriel did not hesitate to reach for her bow and an arrow on her back herself. Thranduil stood irritably, sword drawn. Just as well, because a number of similar wild men followed, as well as a few orcs that emerged from their positions, laying in wait behind bushes and tall grass. 

Tauriel cursed herself for not paying better attention to their surroundings on the way up, she had to be too fixated marvelling at her companion's working muscles through the gaps of the fabric across his chest. Even so, the number of assailants was not too large for the two of them to overpower and the older elf must have been thinking along the same lines as he jumped up to the platform, engaging with an advancing orc. 

“I am sorry,” the first man they've met at the now clearly bogus toll addressed her as he was trying to stay out the way of the fight by crouching down, “they chose someone who looked inoffensive, I had no choice.”

“What do they want?” The elleth thought best to get some information before going too far, though he did let loose a few of her arrows just to deter a couple orcs propelling themselves in her direction. 

“Your king, what else,” the man managed before falling victim to and being swept into the water by a slayed orc that Thranduil made fall into the water.

“By Iluvatar...” Tauriel threw herself into the battle with renewed effort knowing that the older elf had been right in his apprehension about staying in one place for too long and the possibility of being recognised. Not minding her own safety bar as much as it was necessary to keep protecting him, she engaged as many adversaries as possible to deter them from reaching Thranduil. She thought it was going well actually, he had slain most of the mortals by the time the two of them could form a defensive stance fighting back to back on the shore and she was quite looking forward to dealing with the rest, not having had realised how much she had missed this job of fighting for him when she spotted Radug, Bolg's right hand himself. This was no ordinary, chance attack, it was something that would have been prepared weeks or even longer in advance. 

The next surprise was even worse. From behind him, a younger, more agile orc jumped out, letting go of a curved dagger, aimed at Thranduil. With the blond too occupied with other matters to notice, Tauriel did the only thing she could, and that was jumping in front of the weapon, bracing herself against the pain, trying to position herself so as it wasn't hitting vital organs. Again, nothing prepared her for what happened next, the searing burn assaulting her very veins all over, a numbness that followed almost instantaneously. Her brain still registered the recognition that it had to have been some fast acting poison designed most likely to immobilize and not necessarily kill, then she knew of nothing more.

Tbc 

Glossary:

I hope the Ents eat you! (cussing, =go to hell) ~ Harthon in enyd gen medir!


	5. Come Alive

Chapter 5: Come Alive

Uncomfortable pressure in her shoulder woke her and Tauriel shifted to relieve it, only to find that it was hard to move her limbs and that the ground was uncomfortably hard, no matter which body part she was lying on. Opening her eyes, she could barely detect anything in the dim light, but it was clear that the grey stone walls would not be of much more comfort than the grey stone ground under her and the reason that she could not move her arms much was that they were tied together, and so were her legs, with a separate rope. She tried to pull at the one round her wrist with her teeth on instinct, but of course they wouldn't budge.

“Tauriel?” The voice coming from behind was hoarse and halting, pain manifest in the failing of the intonation, but to the elleth it was clear who it belonged to. She turned and scrambled over to the prostrate figure lying on his back in the corner as fast as she could, frantic with worry as she saw his face shine like moonlight in the relative darkness with its extreme paleness that even surpassed the light shade of his hair. She touched his arm just to convince herself he was still alive and she started when her bound hands came back wet and sticky. While it was hard to see colour in the given lighting, a small window high above, she had no doubts that the substance she was touching was blood. And if that dark patch's tone she just touched was anything to go by, there was a good pool of it under him too, as well as his front.

“Are you..alright?” Thranduil managed breathlessly. 

“Am I alright?” Tauriel almost laughed in her hysterics. “I'm not the one bleeding!” She chastised. 

“You've been out..for days..not sure how many..”

“Where are we?” The elleth finally took a more thorough look at her surroundings now that she knew that he needed help, and urgently. 

“Dungeon. Isengard.”

“Where are you hurt?”

“Thigh. Arm. Chest..stomach. Head...” He was running out of breath. 

“Alright, alright, just rest. I should've asked where you aren't hurt. Let me,” she reached out to his face and forehead, first checking for fever foremost. Instead, he was almost stonecold and that worried her more. Having both hands together, her examinations weren't going to be exactly as they should have been and would take longer, but she went forth with them, checking for bumps on his head, blood or cracks at the base of his skull, down his neck and shoulders, then carefully across the chest. 

He let out a moan at his left side and grit his teeth. “Broken ribs, probably about four,” she assessed, “I don't know if they've punctured your lungs.” Tauriel addressed him but was discussing things more with herself till this point, “does it hurt more when you exhale or inhale?”

“Inhale.”

“Right.” It wasn't good news and they both knew it but she wanted to assess him fully before making any hasty judgements. Her next move however rendered his possibly punctured lungs minuscular. She couldn't as much as touch his belly without him letting out unrestrainable moans and a chocked scream as she tried again. His abdomen was hard and somewhat distended and by its slightly darker shade of grey, most likely filled with blood from the inside. Tauriel made a gargantuan effort to swallow her panic and moved on to his unbound arms and legs only by routine. There were cuts and bruises there too, but nothing compared to the most likely life threatening internal bleeding in his stomach. Their captors didn't even think necessary to bind him. Without wasting any more time, she held her hands above the organ in question and blasted healing energy through them, as quickly and intensely as possible. 

“No.” He let out the word with a wretched moan.

“I won't cause you any more pain, I promise,” Tauriel took the time to assure him in between chants. 

“Don't bother,” he gave the tiniest headshake. 

“Do not give up now,” the redhead pleaded, tears starting to gather in her eyes. 

“There's no point,” Thranduil breathed. 

“Of course there is! I love you, you hear me, I love you!” She took a break from her healing to lean over him and kiss him gently, on his swollen lips, his cheek, his eyeslashes when he closed his eyes, “I'm so sorry for the delay in admitting to it. I had been grieving Kili, but I should have not been rejecting you for so long when love was in my heart too!”

Despite his pain, a little smile played on Thranduil's lips and he raised a heavy hand to her cheek, slowly navigating the difficulties in doing so with shaking, weak arms. “I know, muin nin.”

“I thought I had eternity with you, that we didn't need to rush it,” she helped him to hold his hand to her cheek. 

“It's alright, meleth nin.”

“Let me heal you then, we'll talk after,” she looked into his eyes so she could see whether she'd convinced him for now.”

“Won't do any good,” he insisted.

“You don't trust my healing after all this time?” Tauriel decided that maybe she should try enlightening the mood. 

“I do. But they're coming,” Thranduil directed his eyes towards the cast iron door.

“Who's coming?”

“Orcs like to have their fun,” he grimaced. 

“Did they do this to you for fun.” Tauriel realised appalled. Of course she should have earlier as most of his injuries indicated blunt trauma, less likely to have come from fighting and more from someone making a sport out of hurting the other elf. She jumped up at the sound of the door opening, standing in front of him out of instinct protectively. 

“We don't have any business with you, witch,” a wide eyed orc laughed at her stance.

Having no weapons did not hinder Tauriel however to land a good punch and a kick into the ugly creature's middle, double fisted, with tied ankles as she was. It was the other orc stepping out from behind his companion that gave an aggravated grunt and indicated to his guards that he needed something done, which happened to be another of those arrows that made her blank out previously. Tauriel blocked the first one, but the second came too fast after and next she collapsed backwards once more. She still heard Thranduil making the most wretched sound when he was hauled onto his feet, but the effects of the poison, most likely arunya, she could not overcome this time either.

Tbc


	6. Bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My whump obsession seems to have written this chapter and it got slightly out of hand. Apologies to any reader who might not be here for the whump.

Chapter 6: Bang

Tauriel was a lot quicker on the ball when coming to this time round. “Thranduil!” She turned to find him immediately and was somewhat relieved to locate him not too far away from where he had been lying before being taken away. She didn't quite dare to touch him however, fearing it would cause him more pain that good cause Eru knows what those orcs have done to him this time. The elleth focussed on his hair instead, hoping to raise him by smoothing it out his face. “Thranduil please, be alive.” She held her own breath while looking for a movement from the chest and closed her eyes in silent prayer and thanks when she saw some of his hair slightly quiver due to the weak breath leaving his mouth. 

There was no time to waste. If his injuries were of horrific consequences before, she couldn't even imagine how excruciating they would have been now. Tauriel deemed examining him a time waste too, instead she set to work by gently placing a hand on his forehead, channelling her healing energy there to reach all his body through his brain. He gave a weak moan shortly after, his forehead creased and even though he had no energy for it to manifest in movements, Tauriel realised he was getting agitated. “It's just me, Tauriel,” she soothed, “it's alright, it will be better soon, I promise.”

“Tauriel,” he tilted his head somewhat and his eyes opened slowly, with difficulties, as if he would have had to lift immeasurable weight to accomplish it. His breath sped up somewhat with the effort too.

“I'm here,” the elleth restrained her tears, just barely. She had more important things to do instead of crying. “Can you tell me where it hurts the most? Maybe I could alleviate the pain there first.”

His next look and flutter of eyelashes gave her the answer. He hurt everywhere too much to even contemplate the question, but swallowed thickly, which resulted in his body stiffening and his eyes closing as the simple movement of swallowing put too much strain on his chest and abdomen for him to be able to suffer it. So she threw herself into the spell with new effort, forgetting the world bar for the existence of that channel of Arda between her will and the might of gods that held the power of healing. 

“I'm not..dying.” Thranduil surprised her with the statement, so much that she at least temporarily directed some of her attention and gaze at his face. 

“Radug. They need me...” He still tried to calm her worries. 

“You're saying that they wouldn't inflict injuries that would kill an elf because they want something with you?” She came to his rescue so he did not have to exhaust himself with further speaking. 

His tiny nod was signified more by his eyelids than his head. “But why are they torturing you in the first place?” It slipped out of Tauriel's mouth before she could chastise herself for asking more questions. 

“For Bolg.”

“Bolg? Legolas killed Bolg,” she remembered that faithful day under the mountain when her lover's killer had rightfully met his fate by Legolas' punishing hand.

“They don't know that,” Thranduil whispered, “they saw me there instead, above.”

Tauriel shook her head in rejection. Of course Thranduil would want to protect Legolas, but what use was it if said elf was sitting safely on Mirkwood's throne while his father was getting tortured every day here? “I should have killed Bolg. It should've been me. I wanted to, but I was too swallowed up foolishly by grief when I should have acted.” Then her head snapped up with an idea, “I was there, the same as you. If they don't know it wasn't you, they won't be able to tell if it was me either.”

“No!” The blond suddenly showed more strength than Tauriel thought him capable of when he grabbed for her tunic and made a gargantuan effort to draw himself up close to her, “I forbid you to say anything! They think it was me and so it will stay,” his tirade ended in agonised hyperventilation and an attempt at making himself motionless to avoid further pain while it being evident that he did not have the strength to hold himself in that position either. 

Coming to his rescue, Tauriel made the best effort she could at easing him down gradually with her hands still tied together and knew how much she'd failed at it when his body resorted to practically seizing with the agony. As he shifted, it became clear that his abdomen was even more distended than it had been at her previous examination and his head twisted from side to side as he tried to do something, anything to find a better position in which his belly didn't hurt so much. “Shshshsh,” she attempted some more soothing by putting a hand on his forehead again and willing him hale.

It took some time before he quietened somewhat, and Tauriel suspected it was more due to exhaustion rather than what she had achieved with her mind, but she hoped he was lucid enough to understand her, “you can't command me anymore. You are not my king and I'm not your guard.”

“No.” He gripped her firmly once more, although he could manage no more than his fingers gripping her sleeve. “Do this for me, please. You said you loved me, prove it.”

“Proving it would be ending the torture done to you, willing to take it upon myself,” Tauriel established defiantly. 

“No, no, you don't understand..” He paused till the cramp in his belly shifted, “you don't understand the nature of the torture.”

“What don't I understand?”

“Examine..examine me again.”

Tauriel looked at him uncomprehending and lifted her eyebrows, then followed through with the request with a sigh. His hair was matted with dried blood at the back, but the bumps and cuts were largely healed, same with his shoulders and arms and while he seemed to have to restrain himself at her touching his ribs, the bones appeared to also have mended themselves to a great extent. “How long was I out again?” The redhead was horrified. 

“I lost the sense of time..same as before?” He guessed. If further injuries were not accumulated, the amount of self-healing would make sense for an elf, only it didn't match in how much pain he seemed to be in. She moved to his abdomen hesitantly, still in two minds about palpating and causing him more suffering. Just as he suspected, he immediately lost his breath at her touch, legs curling and twisting to somehow balance out the pressure. 

“What is this if not life-threatening harm,” she reproached, “your abdomen is distended and washboard hard everywhere. Why are you saying they intend to keep you alive.”

Thranduil produced some unintelligible sounds at first, “...it's not blood or pus it's filled with.”

Tauriel lifted the tatters of his toga to investigate further. Bruises showed on his stomach, but they were also withdrawing and indeed at least outwardly, there was no indication of blood, “you can't know that for certain.”

The older elf emitted a sound that could only be interpreted as a snort, would it have circumstances allowed it, “I was present when they did it, you know.”

“I don't follow,” Tauriel wondered about his sanity. 

“Calenwhan.”

“Calenwhan?” While the poison did attack the gastrointestinal system, she didn't see how it would have managed to create such extreme symptoms, especially for an elf. 

“Take.It.Out.”

Tauriel frowned in confusion. “How could I...?”

“Plug. For water.”

It was then that Tauriel finally understood, though her eyes still widened in disbelief at the torture method. If he was filled up with water from the backside and a plug, especially with added Calenwhan to cause the intestines to want to contract and dispel everything that was in them, then his dire condition would make sense at the same time as it not being necessarily life-threatening, that is if they've only filled him to the brim and not to bursting, fine line that would have been. “By the Valar...!” It also made sense why he'd lain rigidly on his back, giving his belly as much space as it was possible. “Can you...I need to get you to your side, for access,” she cringed herself at the prospect of making him do that. 

He shook his head, sweat glistening on his brow, “can't.”

“Alright. Then maybe pull your legs up a little, there's no other way I can get in there.”

The request was obviously necessary and Tauriel gave him a few moments to gather himself till he slowly, gradually bent his knees, head tossed back, spine arching instead to give his stomach room. From the way he paled further, the elleth knew it wasn't a position he could keep long, so she got to work, tossed the remains of his toga aside and felt for the butthole. It was wet, warm and loosened, with something large obviously having been through it recently. Tauriel didn't want to contemplate that any further, no way when he was ready to humiliate himself to the extent of asking her to complete this task. He would have had to have been in unimaginable pain for him to lour himself that much. Her fingers slid in easily and she felt the muscles contracting inside, but the passage seemed free of obstacles, “I don't feel it.”

“Further,” Thranduil squirmed, sounding like choking. 

“I can't reach any further,” Tauriel was somewhat reluctant causing him any more pain despite knowing she had to. 

He cried out and convulsed with the pain and given the angle her finger reached at that point, the tip could feel something round, large, smooth and mostly likely metallic lodged into his colon and at the same time she knew that there was no way she could get a hold of that. She pulled her finger back. “Thranduil, we need to think of a different way to get at least some of that water out. It will not be a complete purge, but I think you should be able to vomit some of it.” For the Calenwhan, it was too late, its active ingredient would have done all the damage it was going to by now.

Thranduil didn't answer, not immediately. “Not possible,” he finally forced himself to choke out at last after he got himself to settle back into the position she found him in.

“I know it will hurt more than you can imagine enduring right now, but it should give you at least some relief after,” Tauriel tried to convince him.

“Rawathanar. Ancalthur. Berterin.”

“How many things did they poison you with!” The redhead fretted. While she wasn't an expert on those, she knew that the first two would weaken his system and the third would make it impossible for him to regurgitate. It was commonly used in concoctions so that the victims could not purge themselves of the toxicants.

“Just those four I think. And not poisoned, just made sure I suffered,” Thranduil squirmed, desperately searching for a new position every time his insides moved. The squirming however produced the opposite to the desired effect this time and made him cry out with the resulting pressure that burned in his bowels. “Take.It.Out,” he repeated, head thrown back in a renewed effort to reposition himself and alleviate the symptoms for a moment.

“Alright. Alright, I will try.” I was herself Tauriel tried to calm, “we will need to move you to your side.”

Thranduil shook his head from side to side in useless resistance against the thought, then allowed his logical mind to speak, “do it in one motion.”

Tauriel nodded solemnly and carefully positioned herself for the feat. She had to brace herself as well for what she was about to experience. With a big breath, she steadfastly pushed at his shoulder and buttocks and closed her eyes for a moment to avoid seeing the aftermath. Not hearing anything either, she quickly opened them again to check on him. His firmly fisted hands were shaking, but he made no other movement, riding out whatever agony he was going though, passed being able to make as much as the slightest noise throughout. Tauriel decided this would be the moment to remove the plug as he was already in such pain that could hardly be surpassed when the door banging open made her jump. In her concentration she didn't notice that the guards were coming for him again.

Tbc


	7. Qui Vive

Chapter 7: Qui Vive

Tauriel didn't think her previous approach of getting herself rendered unconscious and out of the position to help Thranduil when he would be brought back was in either of their best interest so she chose not to do anything rash this time. Instead, she made sure she paid attention to as much as she could see of the outside world when the door opened, counted every adversary she could see, as well as sized them up, weapons and possible weaknesses included. If Thranduil would have been well, there was no doubt that the two of them could have taken their captors out before more tranquilizing arrows could be released, but as it was, she could do no more than pace up and down nervously, trying to guess how much time it has passed and what could they be doing to the blond elf during that time. It was the worst pastime she could imagine, especially once the screaming started. Tauriel didn't think her once king capable of such display of vulnerability, and yet the orcs somehow managed to make him cross that threshold. Then just as suddenly as the screams started, abruptly they died out and Tauriel could not help but fear the worst. 

Fairly enough, Thranduil's limp body was tossed back at her feet shortly after and she lunged at it, touching him, looking for any sign that he was alive. It was his subtle shaking that calmed her somewhat and now she was looking for clues of what has been done to him. Oddly, she could see no outwardly signs any injuries, and that somehow worried her more. His abdomen wasn't distended beyond measure either, in fact his whole front was covered in what she could only imagine as being vomit, the very thing she had been trying to make him do earlier. His vital signs were weak, but not of major concern so she finally decided to force some calm on herself and chance positioning his head into her lap, and cradle his upper body protectively for the lack of anything better to do. She assumed his tummy would still be hurting with the aftereffects of the water torture even if it wasn't forcibly kept filled up at this time, so she slid her hands over atop of it and channelled a few chants in the offchance they would prove helpful. He reacted after only a few lines, showing he has come closer to awareness to the extent of some faint moans and movement consisting of curling up around his belly, or more like her hands. 

“Oh Thranduil,” sympathy escaped Tauriel, “what have they done to you.” She was quite surprised when he answered her:

“You don't want to know,” he whispered hoarsely, voice affected by the screams.

“Actually, I do. It gives me a better chance to help you.”

“All you need to know is that my stomach hurts badly.”

“That I already know. Plug?”

“No!” Thranduil jumped away from the hands nearing his backside, beyond the swiftness Tauriel thought him capable of for the moment. “No plug.”

“Alright...” The elleth frowned at his reaction. “I'm not going to touch you if you're sure. It's just that it was very far in, so can we be certain?”

“Believe me, I'm certain.”

“Alright...” Tauriel pacified once more, “will you tell me anything at all that I can use. Any additional poisons you recognised?”

“That I can't be sure of. Just ease the pain a little so I can fight, we don't have much time. We will need to hold our ground at least, if not help Legolas.”

For a moment, Tauriel couldn't decide if she should chalk up his words to delirium. “Legolas is here?”

“Much of the Royal Guard is here, if I understand the gist of what was reported to Radug.”

“I have contemplated the possibilities of escape and I have to give it to our captors, the chances are slim,” Tauriel admitted. 

The ghost of a smile played on Thranduil's lips and he raised a hand to open a fist, revealing the deeply sliced up and bloody flesh of his palm and the tip of a broken and rugged blade he hid there, “free yourself from your ropes in a manner we can fashion a line out of it to reach the grate on the ceiling.”

“And then?” Tauriel untangled herself from him and gently let him down onto the ground to follow up on his request, “devout apologies, but I don't think I can jump that high.”

To her vexation, he manoeuvred himself into a sitting position with grunts and winces as she worked on the rope. “You will attempt the jump from my shoulders,” he explained matter of factly. 

The answer wasn't to her liking either, so she quickly discarded the finished line and scooted over to place a hand on his belly he was protecting by hunching over. “Alleviating pain is limited even through magic unless we target the cause,” she reminded him, then quietened to wish his suffering away through wordless chants.

Thranduil groaned into the first line, the relative relief making him exhale and relax, leaning his head into the inside of her shoulders. “It's not the time to delve into that Tauriel.” He waited a few moments, then took a few strengthening breaths and disentangled himself from her. She scrambled to help him stand, and after a few moments of hunching forward, he took another fortifying breath and straightened to his full height, though his hand never left his stomach. “Now, Tauriel. Take the blade, hang on to the bars and start working on the plasterwork round it. Looks rusty enough.”

The elleth nodded, not wasting one moment, not sure how long he would be able to hold her. She backed up for momentum and climbed his back, then using the acrobatics Legolas taught her, she elegantly hooked the rope onto the grates and pushed down on Thranduil's shoulders to make the jump. Not wanting to have to make the other elf stand any longer than necessary, she made all effort not to miss, and she didn't, through the view opening to her didn't flood her with too much relief. “It's some kind of corridor up here, very tight,” she looked down to see her once king bend forward and chuck up more of his unlikely stomach contents. Neither of them has been fed since their arrival to the fort, unless they counted whatever they've shoved down Thranduil's throat. She was startled by the jolly voice that rang out from above her through the grating:

“Well, that is why I'm here lass, we dwarves are well known for out digging skills,” Bofur's jovial face peeked below, “what's with the weirdie mighty down there? It sounds well skanky, whatever it is.”

tbc


	8. Blessing

Chapter 8: Blessing

Tauriel and Bofur had to push and pull rather than simply support Thranduil through the labyrinth of tunnels the dwarf was leading them through, sometimes with a rope attached to his middle if the room was too tight for more than one person, with the blond just a hairbreadths away from passing out most of the time, but he did manage to grab hold of the dwarf's hair at one point, “why are you helping us?”

“It sure isn't for you cold blood. The lass', King Bard' and King Legolas' generosity however will have me in their debt evermore, with my good wishes, it really will.”

“You're too kind, Bofur,” Tauriel reciprocated the compliment.

“Aye, and then there's the matter of King Dain. He willnae give in tae no orc's no demand and did not want to hear of parts of Mirkwood being voluntarily given to Mordor. And before you ask why should he care, it is that the Lord Elrond is fairly more diplomatic in dwarven matters I would say that!”

“Parts of Mirkwood, what are you talking about,” Thranduil's ears did register matters to do with his kingdom despite the condition he was in. 

“Ransom for that pretty head of yours', what else,” the dwarf explained.

“No, no,” Thranduil straightened up as much as the grimy ceiling let him and stopped to dissent, “the King of Mirkwood should never give in to blackmail, no matter who's head is at stake!”

“Alright, we need to hurry,” Bofur waved him impatiently to follow. 

“Legolas.” The blond didn't budge from his position, though he did put out a hand to steady himself, “Legolas will know I'm not in Valinor,” the former king shook his head, seemingly traumatised by the implications of that aspect.

“Look, I'm no endangering myself anymore than I have to. If you don't want to come, that is your problem,” the moustachioed dwarf scurried ahead.

“Thranduil.” Tauriel put a hand on his arm sympathetically, “we do need to go.”

“Mmm,” the other elf gave his assent and used the close arm steadying him to lean on as he hesitatingly winced his way forward. 

“Wait, Bofur. How far is it we have to go?” Tauriel worried as the older elf now seemed not only physically but also emotionally affected, his shaking and sweats intensifying. 

“Well, quite far,” the dwarf took pity on the struggling Tauriel and went back to let the former king use his shoulder as another place to hang onto, as before, “it wouldn't be safe to emerge any place this side of the Fords of Isen. But we should have help coming soon though.”

“Who's coming?” Thranduil was more alarmed than relieved at the prospect.

“Elven folk, guards, do I know them by name!” Bofur grumbled.

“Legolas...” The blond elf panicked. Because knowing his son, under no circumstances would he let his men into danger if he could lead them himself, new king or not.

“The further we get ourselves on our own, the less we'll endanger them,” Tauriel offered, though she could understand his vexation over facing the legendary archer. The elleth wasn't too keen on it herself, knowing how much she had inadvertently hurt Legolas as a byproduct of her actions. 

Thranduil however seemed to have come to another standstill despite her urging, closing his eyes with his head down and swallowing thickly. Tauriel gave him a moment to gather himself, they've been through this a number of times already, but when a faint moan escaped him and she had to tighten her grip on him as his knees noticeably weakened, and she had to reconsider, “Bofur, I'm sorry, he needs a little rest.”

The dwarf peeked backwards into the darkness of where they came from. He ho-hummed a little even though no noise indicating that their escape was discovered could be heard, then did his part on his side in easing the Sindar down, none of which Thranduil argued with. From the way he curled up and the pained breathing, Tauriel had to assume he was close to his limit. Instinctively, her hand went to his tummy, trying to figure if it was that which was hurting him again. His tense and guarded abdomen prompted her, “I will do some spells and maybe after that we can continue,” she explained to their travel companion.

Tbc


	9. Make Do

Chapter 9: Make Do

There was a little bit of a disquiet when muffled noises and then footsteps could be heard, but soon Tauriel assured Bofur that her trained ears could certify that the sounds were coming from the direction of the way out, besides, how could an orc fit into the tunnels anyway if an elf could barely manage. She did stand up and drew her sword out however, taking a defensive stance over the ailing elf and did not relax till she recognised the freehearted and anxious face of Legolas illuminated behind the torch he held while leading his small, trusted group of warriors the way both Thranduil and Tauriel have predicted would be.

“Are you alright?” He looked her up and down for any signs of not being so, as much as he could in the relative darkness. 

“I am. Your father needs help,” she pressed herself to the wall so that Legolas could squeeze down and onto his knees to get to Thranduil.

“Ada?” Legolas scrutinised the elf lying helplessly on his side with his eyes closed, pretty sure that it wasn't the torchlight that made him look frightfully pale. He was somewhat confused by the whole state of affairs he arrived at. “Ada, can you hear me?” He reached to touch the other's hand, but decided against it seeing how they were both tightly pressed round his abdomen. “Stomach wound?” He guessed, looking up at Tauriel because he didn't get any response out of his father. 

“Something like that,” the elleth confirmed while remaining intentionally elusive, “My King, I'm afraid your father needs a stretcher and the attentions of a more skilled healer than myself.”

Legolas nodded, deciding to ignore her addressing him as king instead of a friend for the moment, or finding out the story behind their situation as the time for acting was now. “We are quite far from backup, it would take a while. We will carry him,” he decided, “I'll get his shoulders and you get his legs,” he squeezed further up in the tunnel to get to said body part he'd volunteered for. The young King hesitated a little before hooking his hands under the arms of the other to move him into position and got a groan as a response from the older elf. “Ada? It's Legolas,” he tried again.

“My stomach hurts...”

Legolas' eyes went wide at the statement. He could not remember any time he had heard his father complaining about the a bodily ailment, ever, or a time he had shown weakness without restraint. It was inconceivable and made the young king freeze, reluctant to move Thranduil some more. “Ada, I am so sorry. Hang on, there is help not far away,” he muttered confusedly once he got his voice back.

“He'd gotten a lot worse in the last while, I don't know why, even thought I've tried every spell,” Tauriel admitted. “My guess is that one of the poisons they've administered to him is only just kicking in.”

“One of the poisons?!” Legolas found moving of utmost importance again all of a sudden. He shifted Thranduil a little more so that he could slide his father's head onto his thighs, ready to lift. “Do you think moving him will hurt him?” He asked Tauriel as an afterthought, though it was pretty obvious from the older elf's facial expression and the subtle, weak shakes that started raking his whole body. 

“Forgive...forgive me Legolas,” Thranduil tried to get a hold of himself and more in control of his body, pulling himself up a little so that he could grab Legolas' hand, “for my ways..”

“You already asked for my forgiveness, remember? When you left to sail,” Legolas took on a reassuring tone he never used with him before. 

“Not the right way, not about the right things...”

“I won't listen to this,” Legolas interrupted with a firmness he must have acquired recently during his stint as ruler of Mirkwood, “not when there is a way to help you,” he motioned at Tauriel to follow his example when despite his father's protests he lifted him in the air. 

“This is dishonourable Legolas, let me walk,” Thranduil matched the no-nonsense resoluteness in intonation.

“Can you walk?” There was hopefulness in Legolas' voice. 

“I can,” his father wriggled out his grasp irritably. 

While the Thranduillion was used to no different than complying with the elder elf's commands, Tauriel knew better than draw away, being in close range enough to catch the taller elf when he toppled forward instead of standing erect. “Legolas, give us a moment,” the elleth eased the sick elf against the wall. 

The current king gave her a look she could only interpret as dubious. She did not like his mistrust, but it was not the time to address it. Instead, she waited till the torchlight withdrew enough for her not too feel too conscientious to take Thranduil's jaw into her palm gently and made him look at her. “I am sorry I have not said this before.” Not wanting to hurt her just arrived friend any more than was inevitable at this point, she changed to the Shore-Language spoken under the peeks of Pinnath Gelin they've both came to understand during their travels in and around the fishing villages of Anfalas. “I am sorry I did not make an effort to overcome my inhibitions and the strangeness which with I regarded the idea of bedding a royal. But I am open to the idea of a bond between us, in fact in my heart of hearts I know it exists. Thranduil, you don't need to be or feel alone anymore, I am with you and I will be with you till my last breath and beyond, in Valinor. Like you've wished, I promise you this. Now as your soulmate, I want you and our loved one propelled to safety as quickly as possible, and it will take a whole lot longer if you don't let us carry you. Do this for me please and we can be married as soon as we meet the first elf who is fit to officiate it.”

“I don't want you to marry me so that we can be safe,” Thranduil responded using the same language. “I want you to marry me because you feel the same way I do.”

“Don't you think I feel the same way you do?” Tauriel chastised, knowing that deep down he would be aware, given the close relationship they've shared, “there's no time for this Thranduil, we need to move.”

His lips trembled, repressing the urge to kiss her in front of the younger ellon he knew was also in love with the redhead. The whole situation was a mess, but Tauriel was right, sorting it out would have to wait. “I will let you two carry me,” he let his heavy head tilt into the support of her arm.

Tbc


	10. Involvement

Chapter 10: Involvement

Lord Elrond pulled the curtains of the moving wagon tightly shut, “please, feel at ease with me Thranduil, I know what the orcs do for torture, there's no need to keep up pretences. You need your rest.”

“Then leave me,” the Sindar said ill-naturedly.

“I'm afraid I can't, we cannot hide from what happened. To assure a proper, reinvigorating rest, we need to talk and make sure I bestow the appropriate spells.”

“You already have your assumptions, just act on them, you will probably be correct,” Thranduil remained indrawn. 

“I'm quite sure that whatever poison was in your system, it was only to temporarily incapacitate you, not to cause lasting effects,” Elrond started with the easier side of things. “It is what they've done to you while you were incapacitated that is the problem,” he guessed.

“You shall not mention that to me or anyone, not one word, do you understand! Most of all not to Tauriel or Legolas!” Thranduil's eyes sent daggers in the half elf's direction. 

“I will not talk to them about it, of course, though Tauriel I am sure has a pretty good idea what has happened to you.” 

Thranduil growled at that, disregarding all manners, “how dare you! Silence! You can't heal me, not really and you know that as well as I do.”

The master of Rivendale wasn't often fazed, but on this occasion he seemed to have to put a second mask up in defence. “I am well aware that poisoning and torment inflicted by the orcs isn't always possible to overcome.”

The blond closed his eyes in shame, shocked by his own actions, “forgive me, so untactful for me, I didn't mean to bear on your wife.”

Elrond knelt by him in response, leaning to the side of the wagon, not in a hurry to get anywhere, “you have my support in anything you may decide to do,” he assured, not wanting to discuss the fate of Celebrian, who he had to promise the same once. 

“In that case, can I have some seclusion please,” Thranduil said softly, making a conscious effort to overcome his frustrated, out of control behaviour.

“No, can't do,” the other elf adopted a pacifying tone despite disagreeing, “I would wish you nothing else than being granted the wish to be left alone if that is what you want, but I am certain there's internal damage to be dealt with. I beg you, Thranduil. You will thank me later, if in thought only. I will need to look at you, to see what ingredients we need to send for, for your medicine, and perhaps for a more effective lotion for your back end than I have at my disposal at present.”

Thranduil looked at him as if the other would have wanted to assault him anew. “Rather me than Tauriel, right? Cause somebody will have to,” Lord Elrond negotiated. 

“Stop!” The former king waved a dismissive hand vehemently, not wanting to contemplate any of this anymore, “just knock me out,” he muttered, “can't you knock me out first so I can skip on the process of humiliation till later.”

The brown haired elf contemplated for a moment, “yes, I possibly can, after the first phase of the examination.” Sympathetic, he would have wanted nothing less than embrace his friend for his sufferings, but he knew touch would be unwanted at this point. 

“And sending for the ingredients? Wouldn't that make people guess what we need it for?”

“Don't worry about that mellon, I will send for different ingredients separately if necessary. Be assured, that whatever the case, the matter will remain in safe hands at my discretion. Would you mind if I removed your blanket now?”

Thranduil didn't answer, but that part proved relatively easy, bar for the rigidity the former king held himself with. “And the mantle?” As it seemed that the blond had wrapped himself tightly into some dark and soiled garment as well, one that most likely the orcs had given him themselves to conceal damages done. Under that, he was still dressed in his toga, though that was grimy and dark now as well. Elrond however did not have to move it to see the bloodstained lower parts. Thranduil had been doing a good job of hiding them, and Elrond would help him to continuing to do so by cleaning him up and some healing.

“Hold the blanket up, I will do it myself,” Thrandruil's ground out snappily and his hand reached towards the wet cloth Elrond approached his lower regions with. 

“Are you sure?” Elrond mentally winced at what the other was meaning to accomplish, but made no more moves to deter the other elf from his intentions, not when hearing the heavy, uneven breathing on the other side of the blanket, nor the shaky whimper that Thranduil could not hold back at one point. 

“Ready...” Thranduil's voice was choked with the effort. Elrond found the other's face grey when he turned back, it seemed that it was only sheer will that kept him from passing out when changing into the fresh clothes provided after cleaning himself.

“This is just a general-purpose healing ointment, mainly athelas extract, kept fresh longer in this form,” the brown haired elf explained the jar he produced from the bottom of the wagon, “I will apply it now.”

“I can do that myself,” Thranduil volunteered again, frustrated he had only been provided with a tunic and undergarments, but not leggings.

“I was hoping I could make my assessment at the same time as applying it. It would be easier that way.”

Thranduil threw his head back, suddenly very nauseous. Elrond planned not only look but touch as well. Nodding minutely, the blond clenched his teeth, concentrating on swallowing down the gathering saliva. Maybe if he will keep focussing on the upper part of his body he could ignore his lower parts' existence. The consious effort made his head fuzzy and the nausea rose, and yet some area of his brain was still acutely aware of Elrond's light hands, barely coming in contact, yet disturbing all the same. The ointment surprised him with its warmth and pleasant feel however, lessening the sting in his anus and he was starting to mind less and less as he was covered in it. His muscles relaxed somewhat, and he realised how frantically he had been clenching his butthole. The ointment had a pleasant fragrance as well, one that further relaxed him. 

“You are ripped badly on the inside,” Elrond let him know and Thranduil realised only now that the other was pulling fingers out after his examination. The ointment must have had such anaesthetic functions that he didn't even notice the intrusion. 

“I am fearing how far the damage goes,” the Rivendell elf admitted. His hand hovered higher, but didn't touch him before asking, “can I palpate your stomach?”

“It hurts a lot, mellon nin,” Thranduil tensed once more, not wanting further pain inflicted on him, “you promised me sleep.”

“Just a few questions more, my friend. Tell me what the pain feels like, is it searing, crampy, like a pressure, does it give you any respite in between?”

“All of the above, at times,” the patient said dismissively. Increasingly, all he wanted was being left alone.

“Can I place my hand here?” Elrond's hand came up to hover over Thranduil's upper abdomen.

“Mm,” the other elf wasn't quite sure. The other widower took his indecisiveness as affirmative. Though his touch remained featherlight, Thranduil's abdominals tensed and a shiver went through him, exacerbating his nausea he could only fight with squeezing his eyes shut, attempting only shallow breaths through his nose and it was then that Elrond truly realised the extent of the internal injuries. With the best care and Thranduil's extraordinary resilience, it was possible to come back from for an elf, but for the widower of Celebrian, it was understandable if it may be too much to ask. Sure, Thranduil had proved in the past that he was able to overcome horrific injuries, loss and cope with lasting disabilities without giving away their existence, a feat that most would have chosen to avoid by sailing to Valinor instead, but wasn't he on his way there already anyway? “Thranduil,” he waited till he could see the other loosening up a little, able to listen, “I could mix some herbs to help your innards heal and your strength return, but there's another option. I could mix you some to help you pass over,” he put a hand on the other's knuckles with the utmost compassion. Carrying on just so he could sail once he was on his feet made no sense, it was only more torture. Celebrian had tried her best and yet she still had to give into leaving the following year after her ordeal. “Legolas thought you already gone, he would understand.”

Thranduil's eyes snapped open, he shook his head vehemently and made a move to curl up around himself in an attempt to protect his stomach while he grabbed for the other elf, fingers locking around the buttons on the half-elf's chest, “no, you don't understand,” he whispered, the volume of his speech affected by the effort he was making, “I'm staying.”

Elrond eased him back down, taken aback. It was unfeasible what the Sindar was able to endure. “Never mind, don't overexert yourself. Forgive me for mentioning, I am very sorry for suggesting. Rest assured, I will not do anything you don't want me to do.”

“Just help with the pain,” the blond begged. 

“Of course,” the other ellon placed a hand on Thranduil's forehead, “I will make sure you will feel a little better when you wake.” Skilled healer as he was, his magic to put the other to sleep worked quick.

“Tauriel..” Thranduil muttered with his last shred of consciousness, but there was a firmness of purpose to his voice that sounded like hanging onto that word. 

Tbc


	11. Commitment

Chapter 11: Commitment

Thranduil forced his eyes to stay squeezed shut, intent on keeping them under lock and key, away from the bothersome assault of some bright light, threatening to draw him from the safety of the corner of his mind that was refusing to engage in any serious thought. The sound of crashing water was bothersome too, he never liked that about Rivendell, and to think that the elves residing there left their windows open in the summer, not put off by the persistent sound. He couldn't help noticing the smell of flowers and the fresh air either, and a shred of logical thought propelled him to understand that it was indeed there to Rivendell he must have been brought. The realisation finally turned his mind unwillingly towards the recent past and he had to take stock of how he was feeling, letting the sensations stemming from his body enter his consciousness. He felt light and floating, unreal, and the previous sting in his backside had apparently turned into a dull ache similar to the pain in his belly. His abdomen was covered with something warm, while he felt a gust of air stroking his bare chest. Fearing further humiliation, he opened his eyes to stare into Tauriel's warm, concerned ones, Tauriel's who eagerly kissed him at once, a gentle smile remaining on her face when she drew back, “my love, I'm so grateful you're back with us, I couldn't have survived it, another death,” she stroked his chest, overwhelmed by relief, “Lord Elrond wanted to keep you in stasis for longer, but I insisted you would be well enough to cope with getting roused and living on. Was I wrong? I can call him back..”

“Don't you dare, meleth nin,” Thranduil pulled her back for another kiss that she let him develop into a deeper, more exploratory one, noting how his whole body came awake all of a sudden, sliding against hers as much as was possible in that position. She herself lingered, wondering why she'd deprived herself of those delicious lips for so long. 

“Elrond means well, but he's so wrong because I love you, I love you so that nothing else matters,” he breathed against her mouth.

“Well,” Tauriel pulled back to turn serious, “there is the matter of getting you fit and healthy..”

“And there's the matter of getting married as soon as we bump into the first elf who has the power to get us united, didn't you say? Elrond certainly qualifies!”

“Married? We aren't even betrothed yet!”

“We can jump that step easily enough, circumstances withstanding.” 

“I would want nothing more but how,” she involuntarily glanced lower down to his midsection, “how are you well enough to do that? We can wait a few days,” she laughed at his eagerness. Sure, he had waited a while for her to make a move, but there was no need for such a rush.

“No, I can't wait.” The blond established gravely, having to keep himself from cringing at the thought of the opposite. “There's nothing else that can keep me from going unhinged right now. I know how to deal with grave injuries, and for me, denial and avoidance works best.” He had shown enough weakness lately, it had to be no more, or he couldn't look himself in the eyes.

Tauriel reeled back a little. Again, Thranduil didn't quite manage to think of to mention a right reason to marry her, but in his distress, she could certainly overlook that, she knew he loved her more than any other anyway. However, there was one issue she had to remind him of they could not disregard, that it appeared he had forgotten about that in his distress, “Legolas is in the next room, has been very worried.”

Thranduil's breath caught in his throat. His first impulse was flight and he contemplated for a moment whether he would have gathered his bride and borrowed some horses right there and then if he would have been hale. Of course the answer was no, and the realisation came with it that disappointing and hurting his son again was unavoidable. When he had been king, he had felt a certain immunity. Closing his heart was the only way to do what needed to be done sometimes, but now he had no excuse other than his lack of control over his fea's choice. “What did you tell him?”

“Simple facts only. That you came to me and stayed, then we were both taken hostage. He seemed perplexed, but up until yesterday he was too busy dealing with the orc groups that had been chasing us to be able to question me more. He will be looking for answers, and soon. What do you want me to tell him?”

“Nothing,” Thranduil deflated, his previous enthusiasm distinctly chased away, “it is not your responsibility, Legolas isn't your responsibility, he's never been. Send him in.”

“I was meant to change the poultice on your belly,” the redhead tried to stall him.

“It feels alright just now, pleasant.”

“Are you sure? I feel guilty too, but you need rest, you don't have to rush.”

“He needs to know.” The blond tensed, knowing it wasn't good for his barely healed stomach, it just had to be done. It felt like he was the child and Legolas the father, as if he'd been naughty and was waiting for his father's due and just punishment. Their relationship had never been the best, but he was sure that after this it would most likely be nonexistent. “I will have a happy life with you,” Thranduil promised both of them, “I just need to close certain chapters of my life, for better or worse and then we'll leave on our travels, wherever you want, have children if you like.”

“Children? The invitation's tempting, but you need to rest,” Tauriel was stuck on that one consideration. She never wanted to see him so close to death again. 

“Children are inevitable when two elves create a union,” Thranduil smirked suggestively and reached an arm round her to pull her against himself invitingly. Every touch between them felt so overdue.

“Your belly. It doesn't hurt?” It was Tauriel who made sure to hold herself back a bit so she doesn't get crushed against his middle. 

“Mmmhmhh, my bad,” the patient shivered, taking a breather from the strain. Perhaps he overestimated the healing skills of the master of Riverdell, but either way, with her, he was happy to be alive. “Lie with me for a moment, muin nin,” he demanded, “you give me strength when you are with me and then I will be ready to face the world.”

tbc


	12. Pedigree

Chapter 12: Pedigree

Legolas walked in slowly, reverentially, nodding at his father with respect, then stopping at an arm's length from the bed. Now that all emergency situations have been dealt with, he naturally reverted to the stance he was used to and thought was expected of him in this relationship, and that called for keeping at a distance, both physically and emotionally. “You look well adjusted, my son,” Thranduil commented on the King's appearance. While Legolas' robes were of a finer material than what he wore as a Prince, nothing else signified his status other than the circlet round his head. But of course Thranduil never thought that Legolas would change his ways too much, especially while outside of Mirkwood, leading the military, a warrior and hands on king through and through, closer to his people than Thranduil ever wanted to be. The approach wasn't necessarily bad, but the Oropherion could not help feeling at odds about it.”Is there anything I can do to help, diplomatically perhaps? Are there any of our allies that have not been contacted yet, that I could undertake?”

“It is all under control. We don't know where Mithrandir might be at the moment, but I'm sure Galadriel can contact him if necessary. Unless you think he could help you heal.”

Thranduil made a dismissive gesture, “I think I can survive without the wizard.”

“How are you feeling, Ada? Truly?”

Despite his heavy limbs, the elder pulled himself higher on the bed so that he could be more level with his son for a sincere conversation, “like someone who had been given a second chance at life,” he avoided talking about the trauma itself. 

“I am glad of you to say so, but I do not understand. Last time I saw you, you were unyielding in your position to sail. Does this mean you're coming back to Mirkwood? That I can get rid of the burden of the throne?”

Thranduil's forehead creased with apprehension, “I knew you were a reluctant King, but I would have thought you would have gotten used to the responsibilities by now.”

“I do my duty for our people,” Legolas stressed. 

“But you don't enjoy at all, do you,” Thranduil inclined his head in an encouraging, questioning manner.

“Enjoyment has nothing to do with responsibilities and what is a honourable and moral obligation. I will fight for justice till my last breath.”

“Legolas.” Thranduil deadpanned. “All those are daunting and important concerns, but there's more to a king's life. For instance, beyond court intrigue and diplomacy, there are deep rooted friendships with allies and servants alike,” he referred to his drunken nights with Galion and his philosophic discussions with King Bard, “a loyalties of some subjects that shakes you to the core with their truthfulness, the delight of books, the luxuries of the best wine, vesture and kado, resources that decide the fate of species. Have you not taken pleasure in none of those, ion-nin?”

“I have taken patrols incognito, shot a good few urukhai and nazgul birds and we had an archer tournament to raise spirits last year.”

“Nay, actual royal gratification, ion-nin. The clothes, the treasures, the service, the luxuries, the feasts, that's what they are for. A little pay off for the responsibilities we take on. Nothing?”

“I was never one for indulgence and lavishness, Ada, you know that.”

“I am aware, I just hoped you'd eventually find pleasure in leading your people and your armies.”

“Having to account for people's lives, deciding over what's worth of sacrifice? I will admit to this, I had no idea of the amount of weight on your shoulders. There is not an easy decision, as they will all have consequences on someone's life.”

“You don't want to be King.”

“I never wanted to be king,” Legolas shrugged, “you just didn't listen. But when the time came, I understood your pain. I saw that you could go on no longer, that you had to follow Mother..” Legolas was at a loss, baffled by the whole story of Thranduil turning up amongst the living years later. 

“I thought I had to as I wasn't happy in Mirkwood, but now I know it was something else I was missing,” Thranduil finally ventured, “I've spent the last year with Tauriel,” he left out the implications for the time being.

“How did that happen.”

“I was sent back from Valinor,” Thranduil presented his story in small doses, testing the other's reaction to each part first. 

“Like Mithrandir, because he was needed here?”

Thranduil was tempted to take the out and avoid embarrassment, but his elven nature wouldn't let him lie so outright, “no. I was sent back because they deemed I wasn't as ready as I thought myself to be, and after some consideration, I have to say that they were right.”

“Ada, this is excellent news! You're coming back to Mirkwood?”

“That is up to you ion-nin. The crown has been passed on, you wear it,” Thranduil glanced upwards at the circlet. 

“But Ada, didn't I just say how I'm disinclined! Surely, there have been instances where a ruler has been thought dead and a new king proclaimed only to be declared unlawful with the return of the original king! The crown is yours, all you have to do is say it. It would be very strange not obeying your rule if you were present, I'm sure the Council will think the same. Let me be released.”

“Very well, if you wish it so.”

“I do, Ada.”

The elder drew a deeper breath, psyching himself up for the issue he needed to mention, “withal, there's another matter to be discussed. The question of Tauriel.”

“I have to let you know, that I have legally revoked her banishment in her absence. Under your rule of course, you can do with it whatever you like, but I would like to appeal to your goodwill. She has cared for you in imprisonment, perhaps as far as saving your life, which would counterbalance her threatening it years ago. I hope you are willing to take that into consideration.”

Notwithstanding his own feelings for the elleth, Thranduil's heart did break for his son. Legolas still seemed so eager on keeping her around, defending her side, standing by her. “I have no intentions to drive out Tauriel. She has more than proved herself, her loyalty.”

“Perhaps she can be reinstated in service then?” 

“That will have to be at her discretion.”

“So you're not against it.”

“I have a very important role in mind for Tauriel,” Thranduil was still trying to take revelations one step at a time. 

“I'm glad to hear it.” Legolas stood even straighter than usual, “Ada, I hereby relinquish my office as King of Mirkwood, with all its agencies and authority in your favour, as it should be, My Lord,” Legolas seemed happy to state. 

“Very well, ion-nin.” Aided by his reluctance to spoil their relationship, the older ellon didn't have the heart to crush his son's enthusiasm in regards to Tauriel, “you are freed from your duties.”

Legolas removed the circlet from his head and placed it on his father's bed with a bow, “I would like make myself useful and take a small team up the Mountains, make sure the High Pass is clear for your return to Mirkwood, with your permission, My Lord,” he offered with slightly notable excitement.

“You free to pursue anything you'd like and you choose scouting?” Thranduil humphed amused, though not surprised and he couldn't help feeling relieved that Legolas' possible absence could give him an excuse to delay his news.

“You are well enough to travel, right? I am sorry if I am under some false impression, but Lord Elrond assured me you have surpassed his expectations and you yourself said you were ready for a new chance at life.”

“I may not be up for riding just yet,” the lighter blond thought of his nether regions with a sigh, cringing internally. His heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest, not liking reminding himself of the ordeal.

“In that case, let me send a messenger to Mirkwood with the good news of your forthcoming return.”

“By all means Legolas, but please son, don't forget to enjoy your freedom,” Thranduil imparted while letting him go.

“I will leave you to your rest, Aran nin,” Legolas nodded his relief, some more spring visibly coming back into his step, along with hope in his heart for the state of the relationship between him and his father.

Tbc


	13. Devotee

Chapter 13: Devotee

Thranduil nodded his appreciation to Lord Elrond, picking up the golden rings presented to him on a little velvet platform. He had planned proposing to Tauriel for a long time, but all his belongings have been lost at their capture, so in his malady he relied heavily on his host for providing him with whatever he needed and provide Elrond did, such elaborately carved rings in Eryn Galen fashion, engraved with the likeness of branches and green Greenwood writing that the Elvenking contemplated whether they should use them for longer than just as a temporary measure. “This ring is my promise that now and always I will give you all my love, and you shall not have to bear any hardship alone. I offer it up to you as an anchor to have as you see fit for strength, I can be your shelter, I can be your home. I will not leave you in this world or another, you, my equal, all that I am is yours,” he stared in his bride's eyes as he placed the ring on her index finger and praise to Elrond again, somehow it fit perfectly. 

Tauriel marvelled at the band on her right hand signifying their union for a moment, disbelieving. It had been one thing to have his favour and ears in court, being pursued by him across half the lands, having him declare his love and actually believing it as true. But the glint of the gold did not lie and neither did the adoration in his eyes, so the redhead got herself together and reached for the matching equivalent she would slip onto his finger, “my promise to you is not so different than how it has always been. I'll try to do my very best to fulfil your every need. I'll stand beside you to support wherever you may go, I'll tend to you when you are sick, build you up when you are low. I'll listen and I'll nurture, I'll fight if needed and I'll be true. I'll do my rightful share and I will never give up on you. I declare before these witnesses,” she glanced in Elrond's sons direction without really seeing them, “I'll be yours and yours only, your lover, your companion, your friend.”

Elrond waited a moment, letting those two get lost in each other's eyes, “may Eru bless your indissoluble union.”

“Thank you mellon,” Thranduil cast a glance at the papers Elrond was signing, “I trust everything's lawful?”

“I believe so. While it is considered discourteous, in days of peace, to forgo the full ceremony and feast, it is completely lawful for a couple to be married without them. Especially as either of you barely has family to honour. Technically, it is only the consummation that is left to be required for the marriage to be valid. To which, we will leave you,” he signalled Elladan and Elrohir to depart with him. 

“Are you alright?” Tauriel squeezed Thranduil's hands she still held in hers as she sat on his sickbed where they were wed. 

“More than alright,” her husband assured. “But I think Elrond forgot something.”

“What? Is it essential for us to become legitimate?”

“Oh, I think it is definitely essential. He forgot to tell us to kiss, solemn man he is.”

“I am sure we can manage that,” Tauriel cosied up on the bed closer to him, pulling her legs up off the floor. She still felt a little shy acknowledging that she could kiss the elf of royal birth just about any time she wishes, so her movements were tentative and slow as she hovered above him and her mouth neared his so much so that Thranduil couldn't remain patient enough to wait for her, but grabbed her and pulled her down to crush her against himself, his arms telling of a strength she only hoped for, didn't expect. Tauriel was surprised to find that it was no ordinary kiss either, that together with their vows it would reach deeper, giving the sensation of feas liquefying, melting together, burning bright and clear. And yet it was so physical that the elleth could not ignore his needy groan, nor the bulge under her thigh, or her own unabated desire to straddle him. Hungry for more contact, she stroked his upper arms on instinct, but restrained herself from the boldness of further initiation as much as due to habitually assuming it wasn't her place, as much to make sure she did not cause the still convalescing elf any pain. 

Thranduil slid his hands down her sides gradually, reluctant to let her go, but pulling back all the same, sensing her hesitation, “what is it, meleth nin? That you haven't been intimate before, is that it?”

“I haven't been intimate before, that is true, but most importantly, I haven't been intimate with someone like the mighty, ever capable and unyielding Thranduil Oropherion himself.”

The blond laughed at that, “if you haven't noticed you've been wed to him,” he slid his hands up her back again, fingers tangling into her unruly red hair, “you can do anything.” Having her in his arms like that made him happy and a surge of intense fondness went through him, as well as sympathy for her situation. He didn't mean to make her blush. “Isn't it what you've always wanted? Being able to bend me to your will,” he decided on a bantering approach. 

Tauriel had to smile at that as she regarded him, eyes locked on his face, attention captivated by an invisible pull that bound them together. With the tips of his fingers digging into her skin, his breaths laborious and heavy, his bottom lip quivering, the redhead had to realise how desperate he was, how flustered by her stalling. Jutting out his chin, he neared her lips again and he only needed her to give in by reciprocating the gesture before he wrapped her tight in his arms again, savouring her lips, her jaw, her neck with the hunger of a man at the brink of starvation. “Undress, undress,” he pulled at her straps with urgency. 

It was Tauriel's turn to laugh at him. She had sure as shooting become aware of his devotedness to her over the last year, and then slowly her belief in it had consolidated as well, but she did not quite realise how cute he would be in his neediness. She shed her clothes as he watched, drawn in and eager, his hands pulling her down into another embrace as soon as she was rid of the leather and velvet, lips exploring one another's. He could sense her losing herself in that moment, the current of passion taking her too powerful for her to resist. She was lost in the heat, freeing him of buttons and clasps and tunic and breeches hecticly, but Thranduil had a surprise for her. 

Tauriel's hands were roaming his chest, tongue taking little licks, lips taking tantalising nibbles, fingernails playing amongst the fine hairs on his front when Thranduil reached down to abruptly slide his fingers down and in between the folds of her nether lips, her wetness slick and abundant and making it easy for him to tease. The redhead tensed and froze, breathing becoming erratic, fists grabbing into anything in close purchase range, which happened to be his nipples and arms. They both paused, riding out the pain filled pleasure, then her grip loosened and she licked her lips, head spinning in the afterglow of the sensation, every fibre of her being propelling her to rub against and ride his fingers. That, Thranduil was aware of how good he was at and he gave her no mercy either, alternating between flicking into her opening and brushing hard against her folds till she whimpered, squirmed, panted and bit her lip so hard blood rushed out. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothed, taking her into his arms again and licking the blood off delicately, supporting her pleasure weakened and floppy body while he laid down and positioned her gently to rest against him with her back on the bedsheets this time. 

“Thranduil...” She moaned, throwing her head back, still in the throws of pleasure. This was his moment. He shifted his hips a little and slightly tightened his grip on her, then entered her in one stroke, perhaps a bit rough for a first time, forgetting himself in his passion. “I've got you,” he soothed when her eyes snapped open. He waited a moment for her to adjust to the sensation, but her slow smile reassured him and he started moving, thrusting, again and again, strong and ethereal, just like she'd imagined it.

Startled from her delirious afterglow, her hands went up around him on their own accord, revelling in the warmth and happiness their union filled her with, legs starting to shake and shiver with the desire to have her seed as deep as possible inside of her. She attacked his lips and bit and nibbled and then pulled her head back to look at him, marvelling at his transcendent beauty, soulful eyes and chiselled features. He caught her eyes too, gazing into them as he bucked, ready for the final stroke, burning his right to her straight into her fea as he came inside her. “I love you..” He whispered, spent, his body only now remembering his injuries and he collapsed atop of her, breathless and blissfully joyous.

“I love you too,” Tauriel assured, clinging onto him, part of the union she'd never imagined to be so profound. 

“We did it,” Thranduil smirked contented, once he regained some of his breath, gratitude and relief staining his voice among the hoarseness of satisfaction, “we did it. We are wed. Nothing can separate us now.”

tbc


	14. Elements

Chapter 14: Elements

Thranduil became aware that something else other than the two of them existed as well when a thin blade of a knife was placed under his chin. It had golden, curvy motives on its hilt, giving its owner away. Thranduil didn't have to look up to know with absolute certainty that it was his son who held his throat at the knife's edge, so close it would have been dangerous to try to speak. “How dare you take advantage of Tauriel like this!” Legolas sounded outraged, his voice shaking with his twisting heart, “she is no common whore!”

The elleth in question rolled off of Thranduil's side where she had been enjoying their post-coital bliss, rolling her naked body into a cover that was to serve as clothing for the time being as she reached for her own blade with the same motion before repeating the move backwards to block Legolas' weapon, stop it from advancing further. “Have you told Legolas nothing!” She complained to her husband, “and you,” she addressed the younger royal, “why would you think I would let anyone take advantage of me!”

“He just agreed to uphold the revoking of your banishment and as he is your King, you are bound to fulfil his wishes, unbecoming or not. I knew there was something up when he said he had plans for you but I didn't think they would be so ill considered! How foolish of me,” he appeared to scorn himself for the moment.

“My King?” Tauriel's forehead creased with discombobulation, “I do not consider myself a subject of Mirkwood at the moment, and even if I was, aren't you my King, My Lord Legolas?”

It was the younger blond's turn to look surprised and stare, but he did not move his blade one tad. “Not anymore. Not when he's coming back.”

“He's coming back?” Tauriel scrutinised her elf non-too chuffed, “when were you planning on telling me?” She loosened her holding off Legolas' knife, contemplative and rather aggravated.

“You don't know he's your King and yet you lie with him? The elf you rarely don't see eye to eye with?” They were both baffled by different things. 

“I would not lie with anyone I do not want to lie with, King or not! If you don't know that, you don't know me at all!” 

“Of course I know you. It's not even an Elvish custom to take lovers, but some are known to indulge in the matter with individuals from the lineage of Men, my party King father for example. You were lost when I last encountered you in the battle, not rational, not undeviating. Sorrow, that longstanding emotion that can overtake our kind for a lengthy time, as well as the emotional numbness stemming from it can bring anyone to unhinged deeds and I want to protect you from doing things you will regret later. Stand down and come with me. My father can rule over Mirkwood, and the two of us can leave together, in whatever way and set up you feel comfortable with. But I can promise you that unlike my father, I would never take advantage of your misfortune.”

“Legolas. I'm no damsel in distress! I know what I'm doing and I know what I want! And right now, I want you to leave this room so I can talk to Thranduil! Legolas?” She repeated pointedly as he hesitated. “Please remove your knife. You are acting like I have been acting on the battlefield. Believe me, it's not a good place to come from.”

“Alright,” the younger blond scoffed and drew a deep breath to calm himself somewhat and keep from attacking again, “I will give you a few minutes to gather yourself together, and then expect you outside,” he nodded at her, then gave his father a disdainful look before departing, banging the door intentionally loudly closed behind him. 

Tauriel looked for her clothes they've thrown to various parts of the room, collecting them indignantly, “what the orvelethron, Thranduil! You didn't just omit to ease Legolas into the thought of the two of us, but you also somehow overlooked telling me you're the Elvenking!”

“That doesn't matter, I love you all the same,” the blond attempted to get out of bed to reach her, forcing back a wave of nausea. He did not have time for such physical matters, he could push it back, shelve it for later, centre himself. 

“It doesn't matter? Just tell me, how does it not matter? Wait. Were you intending to keep our union cloak-and-dagger all along? Am I to be your wife only in secret? I am not suitable for the ruling family, you said so yourself.”

“Another life, meleth nin,” he reached out for her hand from the edge of the bed he propped himself against, “how do you imagine any Eldar going back on wedding vows, hm,” Thanduil pulled her against him, “hush, muin nin, estelio enni. I love you and I will always treat you with the place my love deserves.”

“The place your love deserves.” Tauriel was still confused, but let him hold her even if she didn't look into his eyes for her ire, “and what is that place. What can my place be in your royal court,” she huffed, “me, a common, lowly Silvan elf.”

“Why, My Queen, of course,” he cupped her jaw so he could direct her face towards him, though she still avoided his eyes. 

“Oh Elbereth, you jest I hope.”

It was Thranduil's turn to shrink back a little and blanch, startled, “it's the greatest honour I can give you, the most suitable apology I can think of for not respecting your station enough in the past. Not to mention that our subjects would surely love it if I married a Silvan.”

“Our subjects? Aran Thranduil. I married a vagrant, a traveller, a healer, a common elf who's greatest wish was to explore faraway lands where nobody would recognise him. I did not marry a King!”

“But Tauriel, that is who I am. The only reason I wasn't more lost during the last couple of years was that I was hoping you would return my love. But I do not know how to be anything else, I was a King a lot longer than I haven't been. What I know, what I learnt is how to lead, how to make sure our people have what they need and wish for, how to defend our land. I am not saying that Legolas doesn't know, and what he doesn't, it will come with experience, but don't you know him? He's too much of a free spirit to be bound by the burden of reigning, too much like a bird to be caged to one land.”

“Don't you know me? Guess what. Like Legolas, I am too much of a free spirit to be bound by the burden of reigning, too much like a bird to be caged to one land,” Tauriel pulled away from him and did the last straps of her clothing. “I love you Thranduil, but I can't be a queen,” she gravitated towards the door, but then remembered Legolas would be waiting for her out there and she didn't even know what to tell him. 

“Then don't be,” Thranduil was desperate enough to throw all tradition out the window now that most of them had been disregarded anyway, “we will never crown you. Just be with me, stay with me, simply just be my wife. Can you do that, meleth nin?” He finally caught up with her, lightheaded and panting, tunic barely in place, but his death grip wasn't going to let her away.

“Yes. Yes, I can do that,” Tauriel grabbed onto him, afraid he would fall in his feebleness. Her first reaction had been dread in regards to fitting into a role she never thought suitable for herself, but her love was stronger, wasn't it. “Let's get you back to bed,” she turned to coaxing as that handling method was sometimes successful with him when she employed it, “you can barely stand. Shall we say that today's activities were a tad bit more exhausting than you were ready for?”

“See?” He grinned relieved, “it's not like I didn't think I had plenty of time to tell you about new developments. It could be a while till I make it to Mirkwood's Halls. Especially if you stay with me in bed.”

tbc

Glossary:

Orvelethron – Orc lover, Elvish cussing word

Estelio enni – trust me

Elbereth – vala (god) Varda


	15. Strike Number

Chapter 15: Strike Number 

“Stop that,” Tauriel pulled away from her husband's kisses to her neckline before the situation could escalate, “if you don't happen to remember, Legolas is still standing out there. Do you want to talk to him or shall I,” she suggested soberly.

Thranduil sighed heavily. It was not hard to reign in his arousal when the topic of his disastrous relationship with his son came up, “Legolas got hurt out of no fault of your own. It is me who has to make amends. All you need to do it help me to the door please, Tauriel.”

“Are you sure you can stand unaided for that long?” The redhead fussed, given how much he has needed to hang onto her as they conversed, “besides, we are supposed to have a united front against the world now at all times.”

“No.” Thranduil's voice was decisive and authoritarian. It was easy for him to get into the habit of the regal demeanour, and it wasn't to disregard his significant other, “let him be angry with me foremost. He will deal with it better that way.”

“I will be just round the door,” Tauriel put a steadying arm round his waist as well as holding out her other arm for him to lean on as he took some swaying steps towards the entryway, catching himself on the doorframe at the last moment. “Are you dizzy?” The elleth interpreted. 

“No, no, only feeble. Well, it's time I took my own fate into my own hands,” he nodded at her, “you do know you will actually need to let go of me, right?”

“Alright, sorry,” she gave him an encouraging smile and pushed at the door so he didn't have to. 

The crisp mountain air startled him somewhat, so much different and colder than Elrond arranged for his sick room to be, but he found that filling his lungs with it gave him some strength and clarity and he used the edge of the door to pull himself out and up to full his height. He deemed himself way far off from how he thought royalty should present themselves, barefoot and without adornment, but then again, not many things would make him embarrassed, apart from failing his son that is and that was already happening. “My friend?” He looked confusedly at Lord Elrond standing there, “have you seen Legolas?”

“Oh Thranduil. I have seen him indeed, but I believe he had not taken the news of your remarrying well.”

“You told him I remarried!”

“But Thranduil, should I have supposed such a thing to be kept a secret from the closest family you have? If it was, I apologise, though I would strongly advise you to let me know in advance if similar circumstances arise, I'm not always aware of what you are thinking. Withal if you did let me know in advance, I would have argued against it.”

Thranduil waved some dismissive fingers. He felt his anger rising against the half-elf, but he had more important things to worry about, “where is he?” Thranduil demanded.

“He took off, I know not where. He did ask me to convey a message however,” the Lord of Rivendell paused, aware and weighed down by the importance of what he was about to say. 

Tauriel squeezed herself out the ajar door, having heard everything and was now holding onto Thranduil's arm anew, doubtful which one of them needed more emotional support. “He said not to send for him or to search for him.”

“Is that all he has said!” Thranduil demanded. 

“What is this about mellon nin? For someone supposed to be blessed with foresight and thought transference, I surely seemed to have upset young Legolas. You understand, my powers manifest differently, I had no idea that the simple stating of the existence of your marriage would have such consequences.”

Thranduil waved him off again, “when was this? How much advantage does he have? We must go after him. Tell the Guard to bring forth some horses and you my dear, you fetch me some boots and a cloak,” he asked Tauriel.

“It wasn't on horseback he'd left,” Elrond intercepted, “he'd swung himself into a dinghy to float down the Bruinen. He would not care if the water levels were high or low, he would not even ask whether the ford is barred or not.”

“And is it? Barred?”

“As it happens, it is unrestricted. The swift the current it is currently, he would have reached the Loudwater Falls by now.”

Thranduil muttered a curse to himself, “don't you have powers over the rivers of the valley and their ability to flood? Stall him by foundering him till we can get there,” he raised a leg so Tauriel could fit his boots on. Standing on one foot however proved too much for his delicate balance and Elrond had to step over to provide support, “Thranduil. You are in no shape for a pursuit.”

“I can bring him back,” Tauriel offered. 

“Did neither of you listen?” Elrond was reproachful, “he requested no searching, no sending.”

“Giving into angry demands isn't always the right course,” Thranduil couldn't believe that the grumpy half-elf was standing in his way.

“I may have misread the situation earlier. I am trying to do the right thing this time,” the brown haired elf defended his position, “I believe that a cooling off period would be necessary for both parties.”

“If you're not helping, then let me go!” The blond brushed the other's hands off him and took Tauriel's arm instead.

Tbc


	16. Botany

Chapter 16: Botany

“Where's Your King, Ensign!” Tauriel demanded as she got back from her own quest to the small group of Royal Guards they were searching the moutainside with for Legolas.

The guard in question frowned apologetically and pointed towards a wooden structure that would have served as fortification of the track to the pass against the onslaught of possible falling rocks. Under it, a cluster of the Guards trying to make a debilitated and exhausted Thranduil comfortable with cloaks and sacks to lie him against. “You shouldn't have come!” She rushed over, sliding down on her knees the last few inches. “You stubborn kine of Araw!” The redhead muttered quietly. 

To her relief, Thrandruil was still in control of his faculties enough to give her a weak smile, movements slow as he raised and opened his hand to take hers. “It was important.”

“You lasted longer than I anticipated,” Tauriel admitted, “withal, I have to suggest we give up the search. Evidently, Legolas made sure he could not be found. He is after all, one of the best trackers himself.”

“I suppose you're right,” he nodded his helpers away for a more private conversation, “but can we live with that.”

Tauriel sighed, “and I suppose you would send out letters to reach him whichever part of the continent he goes.”

“And so will you.”

“Yes, but first, let us get you to safety,” he glanced in their troops' direction. 

“I'm afraid this is the best place for me for the moment.”

“It's rather cold for a recovering individual and I don't think we have enough manpower, nor medicine to assure your safety and well-being.”

“Tauriel. I don't think I can move right now,” he imparted confidentially.

“What's wrong?” The redhead panicked, “feeling faint?”

“Not really. But I've already thrown up in front of my soldiers and I'd rather not soil myself as well,” he squeezed her hand in exasperation.

“Cramps?” Tauriel guessed from his tense posture.

“Could you do something to stop it?” 

“I assume you've already tried centring yourself, chants, self-healing?”

“They aren't half as effective when you're not around. Our unification is still fresh, our feas intertwined, I can't do it without you..”

“But that will get easier, right?” Tauriel wanted to fill in her lack of knowledge in regards to how marital union felt as she slid a hand down his front and in between the ties of his tunic to reach his tender stomach. 

“Spouses can live separately for extended periods of time, provided there's always a chance to get back together. But not at first. The pull and longing is too strong for a few years after the ceremony to go divided,” he reached up to pull her against him for a sweet kiss as it would have been too uncomfortable for him to force himself to sit up properly. Their foreheads touching, they paused there for a while, but as intimate as the moment was, she needed to concentrate on her work again, soothe his belly with healing energy through a rub. She knew she was getting somewhere when he closed his eyes and let his head fall back slowly with grace, more in control than before, breathing deeper. She internally complimented herself, she was getting really good at this, making him feel better faster. 

“A king cannot show vulnerability like this,” he voiced what was on his mind. “This will be the last time,” he promised as if it would have been completely up to him. “You will be with me at all times if necessary, we just cannot show weakness like this.”

“As you wish,” Tauriel was amenable to helping him, some part of her knowing full well that at this point she was already agreeing to a more queenly position and duties for his sake than she would have wanted at any point. 

“Maybe you should help me up while the going's good, before the cramps return,” he observed with his eyes still closed, not showing any signs of moving. 

Tauriel's heart went out for him, knowing he wasn't ready, “just wait a moment till I finish this spell.” While her rubbing continued with the same pattern, the chant she changed. Instead of giving him a surge of energy and strengthening him up for the journey back to Elrond's, one that would ultimately hurt him more, she altered her healing force to one that would relax him, comfort him, sedate and put him to sleep and then she would order a stretcher. With his anger she could deal with later. 

“Tauriel..” He muttered, half asleep. He knew he had something important to do, but it evaded his mind what. His wife was with him, so a small smile brightened up his face as he drifted off, leaving the redhead wonder when did she exactly master the art of hypnotism to this extent as well. Everything worked so much better since they've formally united. She would have to ask him about it, but it was quite likely that her fea joined with a Sindar and royal one would perfect her powers immediately, in which case, a healer Queen, could she want anything more than having the perfect means to help her kind? She was reluctant to pull her hand away, bodily contact feeling almost imperative at this point of their union, but she had to go give her orders.

Tbc


	17. Silk Route

Chapter 17: Silk Route

“His Highness is in Session at this time of day, I believe?” Legolas flew towards the entrance of the Throne Room, barely bothering to make sure that his charge, the young human he arrived with, could keep up with him safely through the bridges and passages leading to the main Hall.

“My Lord Legolas,” the guard gave a surprised and stuttering answer, having not heard any news of the younger royal for several years, “King Thranduil is...”

Legolas however was not listening, just marched past him towards the elevation the throne sat on, only to come to a complete stop as soon as he got past the archway blocking his view, making the running Bain slam into him from the back in his efforts to catch up. By the looks of it, the Throne Room that had stayed the same as far back as Legolas could remember, has now been refurbished. Till now. Apart from it looking more illuminated, greener, friendlier, what mostly surprised him was the railing fitted to both sides of every narrow stairway as well as paths, and that at the top, the throne itself as it had been, with antlers and the red brocade had completely disappeared to be replaced by one similar in design, but it was lodged into a lower part of the tree root so that it could be larger, and with real antlers that undoubtedly came from the elk perished in the battle. It was clearly to fit two elves, not one, with the smaller seat adorned green next to the King's red, Silvan and Sindar symbols intertwined at the head. And to top it all off, perhaps the explanation for the railing, two little elven children playing with toy soldiers at the bottom of the elevation to the throne, a red haired little boy and a fair little maiden, both around three years of age, though their minds would have been well ahead of their bodies as it was the case with the Eldar. 

Of course Legolas had been aware that he had a half brother and sister. Apart from rumours about the royal twins Middle-Earth wide, Thranduil himself made sure at least some of his letters to his son really reached their intended recipient, but it was somehow more startling to see them in person than he'd imagined. And for Tauriel to be one of the first he would meet in Mirkwood, he was not prepared for at all. Especially not sitting on the throne in her capacity as “My Queen,” as he muttered, nodding reservedly. 

There was no reservedness however in the way Tauriel jumped up, leapt down the steps and over her children, pulling her childhood friend into her arms for a warm hug, “Legolas! You're back,” she stated, revelling in the obvious statement. 

“I am back bar briefly,” he remained somewhat offstandish, more out of wariness and the strangeness of the situation rather than anything else. “To forward King Bard's request.”

“But you're back,” Tauriel continued to take joy in the turn of events, regardless of grounds. The reason didn't seem to be a very important one at any case, so he must have used it out of convenience.

“Your children?” Legolas acknowledged the two pairs of green eyes glued to him from behind her. He had a faint smile for all. 

“Oh, yes. My daughter is called Nimloth and Thranduillion doesn't have a name chosen yet.”

Legolas nodded in understanding. It wasn't unusual for elves to wait till a child's personality showed clearly to settle on a name. “I'm honoured to meet you both,” he smiled at the little ones. 

“Guren linna le, hanar,” the little elfling referred to simply as Thranduillion stood up straight, nodding seriously at the ellon he understood was his older brother. 

“Êl síla nan lû e-govaded vín, Ernil Legolas,” Nimloth inclined her head to the side, barely meeting his eyes, shy. 

“Oh. Such formalness is not necessary. Pedathanc hi sui vellyn, hen,” he sidestepped Tauriel to get down to the children's level. “I am sorry I didn't bring you anything from my travels, but I do not know what you like.”

“Pressed flowers from faraway lands,” Nimloth provided immediately, “some don't grow in our forests.”

“Because she already has all the ones that are from around here. She knows her mind,” Tauriel provided proudly, being amused by her own daughter at the same time. 

“And what would you like,” Legolas looked into the little redhead's eyes encouragingly, “so I know for the next time when I come back.”

The child shrugged and Tauriel put her reassuring hands on his shoulders, “you can surely see now why we haven't named him yet,” she smoothed her son's hair, “he doesn't know what he wants.”

“Well, for sure there's nothing wrong with that. To be honest, I am not that certain myself what I want to do with my life,” he winked at the child as if parting information confidentially, “and at your age, I did nothing else than nettle Ada with running around the Council and all the Halls. By the way, where is Ada? I have some official business to discuss with him,” he looked back at the Man of Dale who had arrived with him.

“Bain?” Tauriel scrutinised the visitor she only just now directed her attention to after the surprise of Legolas' arrival, “that is you, isn't it?

“I'm surprised you recognise me, My Lady,” the Man bowed politely. 

“As an adult, you resemble your father very much. Welcome to Mirkwood, Prince Bain!”

“That is what I need to talk to Thranduil about. King Bard thought that as he is getting old, he holds his son needs to learn about all the allies and their ways. Prince Bain has already spent some time in Erebor for that reason and I assured his father he will be welcome here too, to observe the Council and the King in Session, train with our guards, learn about the enemy on patrols, under our auspices and guidance.”

“But of course! I will get quarters assigned for him immediately and notify Feren to include Prince Bain in training and possibly operations, as soon as we get an idea of what you know,” she smiled at the young prince.

“Thank you,” Legolas offered in both their names as he nodded, looking at Tauriel somewhat warily, “is my father not in the Halls?”

Tauriel gave a pause, sad and hesitant, “I am holding the Royal Sessions today, I do that oftentimes. The people and Thranduil trust my judgements.”

“Why? I mean why are you holding council instead of my father?”

Tauriel gestured Legolas aside, “Thranduil is indisposed,” she imparted confidentially.

Confusion rendered Legolas silent for a moment and he frowned. “You don't mean he is still unwell? Years have passed. Or is it some other affliction?”

“Not sickly as such, more like disinclined to interact. Lord Elrond had predicted it, that it will be hard for Thranduil to get over what has happened to him at the hands of the orcs, like it has been for Elrond's wife. Their whole, blessed family couldn't stop Lady Celebrian from suffering from it. Come, I'll take you to him.”

Legolas' nod was hesitant and touchy and he shook his head in vexation behind her back as he followed. For just about his whole life, Thranduil always played this card, there was always something wrong, something on his mind, something that made him heavyhearted, something that stopped him from being the father Legolas had wanted. There was only so much he could forgive and make his father exempt from because of circumstances. He didn't want to see Thranduil, go through that rhetoric again, but if he intends to treat his little brother and sister with the same absentness as he had experienced growing up, Legolas was certainly going to have some words with him, estranged or not!

tbc

Glossary:

Guren linna le - My heart sings to see you

hanar – brother

Êl síla nan lû e-govaded vín - A star shines on the occasion of our meeting

Ernil- Prince

Pedathanc hi sui vellyn - you and I will speak now as friends


	18. Correctional Institute

Chapter 18: Correctional Institute

Based on Tauriel's words of Thranduil only having a more psychological than physical affliction, Legolas didn't quite expect to find the sovereign lying in bed detached and decidedly paler than usual. The younger elf had to make some noise deliberately setting down his bow before his father realised there was someone else in the room with him, but then his eyes went wide and he swung himself out of bed, clearly agitated, “you are here,” he stated as if questioning his eyes.

“Indeed.” Legolas couldn't help his inclination to torture the other elf with being cryptic. 

“Welcome home,” Thranduil nodded appreciatively, bringing his fist to his heart. “Everything alright, I trust?” He tried to find out the reason for the archer's return. 

“Not at all.” The time Legolas had spent as king, as well as the dark thoughts that had plagued him during his travels empowered him to speak out bolder against his father. “I come here to find that you don't cherish your new son and daughter, regardless that their mother is present and well!”

Thranduil's blink was slow, taken aback. Of all the things he'd expected Legolas to accuse him of, this wasn't one of them, and he did expect a lot of accusations. “You've met them? Ion-nin,” he started somewhat confused, but open to a genuine and heartfelt conversation with his eldest. It was overdue. “I spend time with the elflings.”

“Let me guess. You meet them regularly to check on their progress and training, besides the official social functions.”

Thranduil stood hesitant for a while, almost wincing having to admit to the opposite as it was rather different from how his treatment of his firstborn had been after his mother's passing, “we often take breakfast together after waking with the elflings in bed beside us even though we tuck them in their own beds with a story. Nimloth is rather bookish.”

Legolas cogitated the information for a bit, forehead creasing with the effort to get his head round it as he stared in silence. So no, if the children were not neglected and rejected, then his work was done here. His own relationship with his father was a nonstarter, it had been a goner ever since he could remember so there was no point to comparisons. “I am glad and apologise for overstepping.” With the matter settled, something else occurred to him. “I hear you're rarely taking part of ruling. Are you well, Ada?”

The older royal turned somewhat to the side, not keen on divulging into the matter. But after the mistakes he swore not to repeat, he had to be truthful, “I am trying to be.”

“But you are not.” It wasn't a question from Legolas and he felt his throat tightening as he swallowed, contrary to how he'd thought he'd feel in his father's presence. 

Thranduil ignored the urge to rub a hand over his stomach. Lord Elrond assured him in his letters that he was doing quite well actually, considering elves' tendency for monogamy and their rare vulnerability arising from the nature of their feas to be destabilise after such a violent attack as a rape. No, he would not throw up just thinking about it, not this time. “I have frequent stomach aches I'm afraid,” he provided, the same way as he usually responded to such a question from close family, the same way as he dealt with the matter internally. It was easier to concentrate on and transfer the hardship onto a physical manifestation, rather than unearth any other implication. 

Legolas felt slapped in the face, by himself. Of course he knew that elves could not overcome the effects of sexual assault as well as other species, but he didn't expect the ordeal to last this long, not for the ellon he'd always thought of as the strongest elf he'd ever encountered. He felt conflicted, being so wrong, and at the same time, also bamboozled and indignant, cheated on by his father's inability to do what was needed done after offering to take the throne back. Were they back to square one? “You need help?” He finally settled on to say, his sense of duty to his people as strong as his father's. 

“The healers can't do anything,” Thranduil misunderstood the question, “some symptomatic relief, sure, at times. I've already exhausted all their options.”

Withall, it still surprised Legolas how much vulnerability the older elf was admitting to, there was certainly a noticeable change in him. “There must be something else that could be done, some advice from the Lady of Light or an Istari.”

“I will not try to sail again. I owe that to our people, you, Tauriel and the twins.”

“Very well. I agree, sure, but how exactly are you planning to rule when you're not!” Legolas' frustration with him did come out in the end. His son's accusations felt like another kick into the stomach, but then again, every hardship felt like that these days. Thranduil groaned and grabbed at the offending organ this time, sitting back onto the bed, lightheaded and more nauseous than before. “Tell me what I can do!” Legolas frowned, further baffled by the other's state of health. “Just how ill are you!” 

Thranduil leaned forward, concentrating on his breathing to stop himself from vomiting. His paleness was accentuated to the extent that Legolas stepped forward to steady him, “you need to lie down?” He put a hand behind his father's back so he could lean on it getting into bed. “Ada, why are you so sick!” The younger blond panicked. 

“I'm not.” The current king said matter of factly. “I have bad days and you happened to catch me on one of those.” Legolas repressed the urge to roll his eyes, mainly because that was such a Thranduil trait for a gesture and he did not want to be like his father. 

“Now tell me, what brings you back ion-nin.” Thranduil forced himself to be alert and interested for his son's sake despite how tired he felt. 

The younger elf gave a minute shrug, “a trivial matter that's getting dealt with at the moment by your replacement,” Legolas found it hard to mention Tauriel's name as what felt like a betrayal still stung, even though his logical mind knew it was not meant as such. “King Bard sends his regards and requests his son's presence in the Halls for observation of our customs and reigning. One that you cannot presently demonstrate, so I should probably stay a while? Make sure everything's well oiled?”

“It would be favourable if you stayed with your family, get to know your brother and sister,” Thranduil avoided to admit unfitness, but found a reason to suggest for a possible stay.

“Acceptable,” the archer nodded his agreement. There was no way he could leave the realm now, not till he got a hold on what was going on in all areas of the administration. For the good of his people, he told himself, but then why didn't it feel like a burden? His forehead creased with surprised self-reflection as there were minimal negative feelings coming forth with the prospect. Has he missed his home and his father more than he'd realised? 

“Anything else I should know of?” Thranduil startled him out his reverie, “news from any of our neighbours and allies you bring back? An adventure you have had? The people you've met? I'd like to hear it all.” 

“Nothing that can't wait till you're feeling better,” Legolas noted the shaking of the older elf's fingers that Thranduil tried to shroud by grabbing onto his sheets. “Rest, Ada. I shall go ask the little Prince and Princess what game they'd like to play, show them a few tricks maybe seeing as I've never thought of presents to bring for the little ones.”

“Thank you,” the tired King raised a hand to his chest in appreciation again. His oldest's calm demeanour, the seizing of his accusations and his amenability had a pacifying effect on him too. Legolas was back and less angry and contrary as he'd expected him to be. A sudden and adventive feeling engulfed him, one that told him that everything will be alright, and soon. When he lay his head back, he knew he would sleep, but peacefully this time and it will be a healing and reinvigorating sleep too, one he hadn't had in years.

tbc


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Halcyon

Legolas hurtled himself down the hillside to collect his arrows, most of them needing yanked out of a bunch of defeated half-trolls who had ventured into the forest probably to spy on the military capabilities of the Mirkwoodian Elves. Well, their capabilities were such as that said spies could not report anything back and that was a message in itself, and so it shall be, with the well oiled mechanism of defensive operations at their best, at least since Legolas and Queen Tauriel was allowed to take over charge of the Guard, just like it has once been. 

“Do you think Thranduil would want one of them alive?” The Queen held the tip of her sword at one of the squirming troll-men, severely injured, but still breathing. 

“Nah, they're just riff-raff,” Legolas voiced an opinion.

As her own judgement agreed, Tauriel simply bathed her sword in the arterial blood at the neck, a rare vulnerable point remained exposed of the large and strong warrior donning twisted metal armour, then jumped down a mound to where the blond was checking the other casualties. “I've forgotten how beautifully precise we are when we fight together, just the two of us,” he commented with a smile. 

“I won't say I didn't enjoy it,” the redhead cleaned her sword rubbing it against a thick bush. It was a rare time with just the two of them, escaping the attentive eyes of the court or the Guard.

“I know, where did that come from!” Legolas rejoiced, “we haven't practised coordinated moves for years and yet when we needed them, they were there!”

“Good to know. Because in between the children, patrols and Thranduil, I don't think I will have much time for that kind of nominative training,” she admitted, hoping it would not affect him. Oftentimes, they still walked on eggshells around each other, but at least Legolas now seemed to have accepted the notion of her and her King, along with the fact that he also needed to be hanging around close to home, some of the duties of a monarch falling to him. 

“Ada seems a lot better these days,” the blond probed. While Thranduil kept a solid front in public, sometimes it was only Tauriel who could tell whether he was indeed in good health. 

“He is,” Tauriel assured for this very reason, “ever since you came back, and moreso lately since you've taken your old position in court and in the army.”

“You think it has something to do with me?” Legolas frowned incredulously, mounting his waiting horse.

“Of course it does mellon! Thranduil wants nothing more than your love and respect,” the redhead got herself in her own saddle.

“He has my love and respect.”

“Does he really know that though?”

“Tauriel, you of all people know how cold he had been with me growing up. If he wants warmth, he should make the first step.”

“Oh for the love of stars and the moon! You two are incorrigible. Do you really want to say you don't see a change in him.”

“He does smile around the children, I see that and I don't begrudge that. Nimloth and Gelmir, that's the name you've decided upon for the elfling, right, they should not experience the icy wall my father had put up with me. And what for, just to realise that my mother wasn't even his soulmate after all?”

“He thought she was, like I thought Kili was. It still hurts, I should know. So Legolas please, give him a chance.”

“I am here Tauriel when I could have left, he has you now. Isn't that proof enough that I care. You can't rush these things. What I need is time, to get to know this new Thranduil that has emerged from the ashes. But I promise you, I will always be there if you need me, you, or the elflings. Or Thranduil,” he added somewhat begrudgingly. 

“Oh Legolas,” Tauriel turned towards him, halting her horse. “You still sound like you care more about me than your own self,” the elleth frowned sympathetically, at a loss. 

“That will never change, I will always be your sadron, your thalionen.”

“By the Valar, don't say that!” The Queen was horrified, “do you think I wish sadness upon you any more than I would wish it upon my own children! How can I live with the knowledge that I make your existence unhappy!”

Legolas inclined his head tongue-in-cheek, “that's a high level of self importance you have there, My Queen,” he tried to joke his way out the situation. “But seriously, Tauriel, I am not blind. I can clearly see that whatever I could have had with you, compares not to the bond you have with Thranduil. It is how it should be and one day, maybe I will find my other half and if not, we still have our realm to protect and take care of. Worry about me not. I do have a request though.”

“Anything.”

“I know you are well qualified to do it yourself, but I would like to teach archery to my brother and sister.”

“Nimloth and Gelmir would love that! But that's not even a request, it follows naturally that you would be most welcome to do so. Amything else?”

“Yes,” Legolas lowered his voice to confidential even though they were alone on the path, “keep my father here by keeping him happy. I have no wishes to wear the crown again.”

“That you can leave with me, My Prince,” Tauriel winked at him before urging her horse forward.

The End.

Glossary:  
sadron – loyal  
thalionen – hero/champion


End file.
